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G O R G O 

A Romance of Old Athens 


By ' 

CHARLES KELSEY GAINES, Ph.D. 

M 

Professor of Greek in St. Lawrence University 


> > A J > > > > 

> >*53 

> ) ) ) 






LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY 
BOSTON 




the LIBRARY of 
CONGRESS, 

Two Cop'wa Roceivec 

AUG 8 1903 

Cepyng‘2 Enjry 

CtMS\. ** 

CLASS ^ XXc- No. 

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COPY B. 


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m s mu m rnlJ m rWJ m ird m 

1 

COPYRIGHT, 1903, 

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Bv LOTHROP 

PUBLISHING 

El 

1 

3 

COMPANY. 

1 

F 39 

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Entered at 

3 

Stationers’ Hall. 

ES 

§ 

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All Rights Reserved. 

1 

Published August, 1903. 

1 

@ iTtu m irtiJ m M m mil 

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r o MY DEAR SISTER 
HELEN A. COWEN 




















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

Prologue .... 



> 

PAGE 

V 

I. 

The Flight .... 




1 1 

II. 

Under Siege 




21 

III. 

The Great Pestilence 




31 

IV. 

From a House of Slaves . 




48 

V. 

Peril and Rescue 




56 

VI. 

A New Friend in Need 




64 

VII. 

A Walk with Socrates 




76 

VIII. 

Schoolmates 




93 

IX. 

The Demagogue . 




108 

X. 

On the Road to Sparta . 




1 19 

XI. 

A Wrestling Match . 




132 

XII. 

The Daughter of Brasidas 




145 

XIII. 

A School of War 




157 

XIV. 

The Bow of Golas . 




169 

XV. 

Apteryx .... 




180 

XVI 

The Sailing of the Fleet 




*95 

XVII. 

Broken Stones . 




206 

XVIII. 

Prison and Court 




21 7 

XIX. 

A Waxen Riddle 




231 

XX. 

Days of Battle . 




244 

XXI. 

The Turn of the Tide 




256 

XXII. 

The Riddle Solved 




265 

XXIII. 

In the Grotto of Gorgo . 




2 75 

XXIV. 

A Ride up Phounias . 




284 

XXV. 

That Lysander . 




294 


c 

0 N T E N 

T 

S 

CHAPTER 



PAGE 

XXVI. 

Meletus before the Senate 


303 

XXVII. 

The Beginning of the End 


314 

XXVIII. 

The Great Disaster . 

.1 

326 

XXIX. 

Slave and Poet . 


339 

XXX. 

The Brand of the Beast . 


353 

XXXI. 

The Traitor .... 


362 

XXXII. 

The Arch - Conspirator 


373 

XXXIII. 

A Message .... 


382 

XXXIV. 

We Three .... 


390 

XXXV. 

An Entry and an Exit 


399 

XXXVI. 

The Greatest Battle Yet . 


407 

XXXVII. 

At Last 

. ■ 

416 

XXXVIII. 

The Last Hiss of the Snake 


424 

XXXIX. 

A Voice from a Meal -Tub 


438 

XL. 

The Vengeance of the Shades 


447 

XLI. 

A Last Talk with Socrates 


457 

XLII. 

A Sigh of the Wind . 


465 

XLIII. 

My Promise to Gorgo . 


473 

XLIV. 

The Viper’s Sting 


485 

XLV. 

“ Even in That Darkness ” 


494 


















PROLOGUE 

I STOPPED short; I flung down the book. “ It 
is a lie,” I cried, bitterly, “ a cruel, hateful lie,” 
I almost shouted, — and the whole class stared 
at me in amazement. 

A strange outburst was that for the dingy, drowsy 
Greek-room of a little New England college. I 
was as much surprised as any; I stood confounded 
at myself. For then it was that I remembered. 

The passage which I was translating seemed inno- 
cent enough — to all the rest. We were reading 
at sight — the professor’s particular hobby ; and he 
was exploiting upon us the Twelfth Oration of 
Lysias, assigning parts here, there, anywhere. How 
the boys all dreaded those paper-covered Teubner 
texts which he used to distribute for this exercise, 
— printed in quirkish type that made the most famil- 
iar words look new and meaningless! To many 
of us this sight-reading was an ordeal like walking 
blindfold over hot ploughshares. 

But I had been paying scant attention to what 
they were reading. Greek was easy to me always, 
and the halting drone with which they turned the 
sweet Attic into their class-room jargon wearied 


PROLOGUE 


my ears. Indeed, it fretted my nerves : “ A squeak- 
ing Illyrian would hardly haggle it worse,” I mut- 
tered to myself. And my thoughts had drifted far 
away into I know not what region of day-dreams, 
under a bright sky buttressed on purple hills, when 
I heard the incisive voice of the professor : 

“ Leonard, you may read now, beginning with 
the seventy-eighth section.” It cut through the 
mists of cloudland like the flash of a searchlight. 
I started to my feet, found the place and began : 
“ ‘ And although he has been the author of all 
these and still other disasters and disgraces, both 
old and new, both small and great, some dare to 
profess themselves his friends ; although it was not 
for the people that Theramenes died, but because 
of his own villainy - — ' ” 

Then I choked and stopped. Tears swam in my 
eyes, and a hot flush scalded my cheeks. For in 
that instant first I understood; and in that instant 
it seemed to me that they all understood. 

But the professor, rather mortified at my un- 
wonted hesitation, began to prompt : 

“ Go on, Leonard, — 4 Having paid a just for- 
feit under the oligarchy, for already he had be- 
trayed it/ — go on, it is not hard — ‘ and no less 
justly would he have died under the democracy, 
which he twice enslaved ’ — why, Leonard ! ” 

For there — “ It is a lie,” I burst forth, “ a cruel, 
hateful lie.” Those words which he uttered so 
calmly had stung me like the lashes of a scourge, 
— so malignant, so artful, so utterly unjust. And 


PROLOGUE 


the whole world had read them — this had been be- 
lieved for centuries, with none to contradict! 

To say it when a man was dead! ” I went on. 
“ And Lysias! for Lysias to say it! ” I had quite 
forgotten the class; I saw only the foppish, wasp- 
ish little orator, declaiming before the people with 
studied passion and hot indignation well memorised. 
But the people had never accepted it! They knew 
me better. And Thrasybulus — surely he had made 
some answer! 

“ They would not listen to such as Lysias ; they 
would make an uproar and rise from the benches. 
How dared that alien accuse the best blood of Ath- 
ens!” Yet I could scarcely have told you why I 
said it. 

My classmates were too much astonished to laugh. 
The professor laid down his book ; mine I flung on 
the floor. My blood was boiling, my soul a tumult. 

“What does this mean, Leonard?” I heard the 
voice; I could not clearly see the speaker. 

“ I will not read it — I will not read another 
line,” I cried. “ It is worse than the malice of 
Critias, — and from Lysias!” For the past had 
opened like a darkness lightning-cleft ; all in one 
moment I felt the injustice of ages, the shame of an 
aeon of scorn — and they asked me to- read against 
myself the lying record. I would die again sooner 
than read it. I could not realise that they did not 
comprehend. 

It was not often that Professor Lalor was at a 


PROLOGUE 


loss for words, but there was a long pause before 
he spoke. 

“ Young man,” he said, slowly, “ I always like 
my students to manifest a living interest in what 
they read, and this trait I have especially commended 
in you heretofore. But there is measure, Leonard, 
in all things, as the Greeks themselves have taught 
us ; and this exceeds — this certainly exceeds. One 
would fancy you claimed to know more of these 
matters than Lysias himself, — a contemporary au- 
thority.” 

And here the suppressed laughter broke loose 
behind me. Again I had choked, but anger gave 
me back my speech. 

“ Lysias an authority! ” I exclaimed. “ Lysias! ” 

My sight had cleared. The class sat quiet, star- 
tled out of their laughter; the professor looked 
pained and puzzled. 

“ There is a degree of truth in what you seem 
to imply,” he said. “ It may be conceded that Lys- 
ias was somewhat lacking in the judicial quality. 
And as to Theramenes, Aristotle has expressed a 
very different estimate of him : and Xenophon, too, 
has applauded his behaviour in that final scene. Yet 
Lysias — ” 

“ He was no better than a sycophant,” I broke in. 

“ Go to your room, Leonard. You forget your- 
self.” But the truth was, I had remembered myself. 

After that they nicknamed me Theramenes : I 
was nicknamed after myself, and none suspected. 


PROLOGUE 


But when I left college the title dropped from me, 
— which was fortunate, doubtless, for I am still 
active in politics, and that name, with the slanders 
that lie upon it now, is not one to be desired. You 
may guess as you like as to who I am; I have 
given you no real clue. 

Yet I could not forget my past; the sense of the 
wrong done my name has ever rankled. And as 
my thoughts have dwelt amid those old experiences, 
the memory of every minutest circumstance has 
grown clear, — yes, clearer than the things about 
me, just as an old man forgets yesterday, but re- 
members all the little things of childhood. So it 
is that I remember my life in Athens. 

Forget! I have far too much to remind me. 
What is this seething democracy in which we live 
but Athens renewed? In a thousand ways I am 
reminded — but I forbear. Yet — do you imagine 
that I alone among living men have walked those 
ancient streets? Not so: but the rest do not re- 
member. And what but a dark cloud of things 
unremembered is this that overshadows most of 
us — like a sense of fate, only it lies somewhere 
in a past as unknown and uncertain as the future! 
They will never recall it — those others — unless 
I should tell them; and I have told but one. 

Could it be the same? My heart rang like a lyre 
when all the strings are swept and sing together. 
“ Grant me, O Jove, this one thing,” I began, with 
hands uplifted; then stopped. I knew that Jove 
was nothing — a pagan fancy. But if one has been 


PROLOGUE 

brought up to pray, there are times when he will 
pray — even to Jove. 

No: I have not forgotten; nor, I fear, forgiven. 
Not even to-day can I quite live up to the teachings 
of Socrates, — still less, those of him who came 
after, teaching the same, and more, with a higher 
authority. Thence should arise the chief difference 
between that old world and the new; yet men are 
much the same. 

I, too, am the same, — even more than others, 
because I remember. And because I am the same, 
and know it, the stain upon my ancient life is hard 
to bear; I cannot die again and leave the story 
untold — nay, mistold, which is far worse. 

And of this I spoke at last to her to whom I 
had already spoken wonderful words — fulfilling a 
promise. 

“ O boy,” she cried, “ you shall write of that thing 
in a book, and tell all the truth.” 

And this is the book. 


G O R G O 


I. 

The Flight 

M Y first vague memories of anything belong- 
ing to the world are of the country — of a 
great sunshine and a sound of bees, and of 
playing with a big, shaggy dog that stood and cast 
his shadow over me as I rolled naked on the sand. 
For I was born before the evil days of the war 
that drove us from our homes into the crowded 
city. Yet it is mainly because of the war that I 
remember the dog. For as I tugged at his throat, 
clutching the loose skin with both fists, I heard 
a sound that was like the distant bellowing of bulls 
before the altar. And it broke the quiet into turmoil, 
as when a stone is dashed into a pool. For the 
dog sprang from me, barking; and the women 
rushed forth and caught me up, and smothered me 
in the folds of a mantle. And while I screamed 
and struggled, there came a clatter of hoofs and 
such another bellowing blast that I thought the 


ii 


bulls had broke loose and were upon us ; and words 
that I could not understand were shouted in a 
strange, hoarse voice. Then the clamour passed 
on, and they hurried me inside the house. 

But the quiet which was that day broken never 
came back. I was never again to play with the 
dog or scramble in the sand; and little enough 
I saw of the sunshine for many a month. For the 
sound which had frightened me from my play was 
the trumpet sent out by Pericles to call the people 
within the walls ; and the words that rumbled with- 
out meaning in my ears were big with thrice nine 
years of war, telling of the approach of the Spartan 
Archidamus with sixty thousand men. 

That night we fled, with our servants and our 
cattle and whatever we could carry. I had my 
last glimpse of home as I was borne away to the 
covered wagon, crying and reaching back with my 
hands, — though in after years I found there its 
dead embers, sunk in the dust amid calcined stones, 
and saw the black stumps of the orchard where 
the bees had swarmed. But of that dark journey 
I remember little, — only cries and confusion, and 
much lashing of men and beasts, and an intermi- 
nable jolting over the hills, until I sobbed myself 
asleep in my nurse’s arms. 

Yet what I saw in the morning I remember very 
clearly; it was all so new. For when I awoke the 
wheels were running quite smoothly, crisping over 
compacted sand, and a strange, keen odour was in 
the air; and as the curtains flapped the sunshine 


G O R G O 


13 


flashed in and out. Then I perceived that I was 
alone, lying upon a pile of fleeces, with many skins 
and garments heaped about me, making a great nest 
lined with the wool. But I was vexed at being 
alone, and began to wail; whereupon some one 
parted the curtains and lifted me out. And the 
sunlight flashed in my eyes from ten thousand 
tumbling waves, and the waters ran up the beach 
in wide bands of gold and green and purple, break- 
ing at our very feet, so that my face was damp 
with the spray, and I crowed and clapped my hands, 
until my nurse could hardly hold me, for that was 
my first sight of the sea. My father laughed at this, 
and said that the people of Athens had surely pro- 
voked the anger of Dionysus, for now we were 
all turned into dolphins from our birth, — which, of 
course, I could not at all understand, but it im- 
pressed me mightily, so that I lay very still, fearing 
about the dolphins, and watching the sun-flashes 
from miy father’s helmet and from his spear-point 
as he walked. For he used the spear as a staff, 
but the rest of his arms lay on a cart, and a boy 
was leading his horse. 

Presently we came to a huge wall, so tall that 
it seemed to go up into the sky and stopped every- 
thing; and this, I thought, must be the end of 
the world, where Hercules went for the apples. 
Then I saw that there was a gate under the wall, and 
a great multitude waiting before it with carts and 
cattle; and I thought that perhaps we were dead, 
and this was the entrance to Pluto’s country, and 


H 


G O R G O 


I hid my face for fear of the dog with three heads. 
And putting my lips close to my nurse’s ear, I 
asked her if indeed this was Pluto’s gate, and if 
the noise I heard within was the growling of the 
dog. But at that she started as if I had bitten 
her, and cried : “ Apollo avert the sign ! For the 
child is ominous, and has breathed in my ear an 
evil word at the threshold, to be a bane to us all.” 

Her tone terrified me, so that I screamed ; whereat 
my mother came quickly, and beat the woman and 
took me away. When I had told her my fear she 
frowned a little, but kissed me, and said that this 
was no such evil thing as I had thought, but only 
the gate of Piraeus, and that we were going to 
live in Athens for awhile, in our city house, until 
the Spartans were all driven away. And she told 
me that I must take care never to think evil thoughts, 
nor speak them; for the gods, when they heard 
ill words, would sometimes make them true. But 
when she saw that I was still troubled, she said 
that it was not likely the gods had noticed such a 
little whisper in so loud a noise, which comforted 
me greatly. 

Yet from that hour there came into my soul a 
dread which I had not felt before, and I specu- 
lated much about the deep, dark underworld, though 
I feared such thoughts were wicked and unsafe. 
As for the nurse, she could never bear to be with 
me afterward, nor could I abide her presence. So 
she was set to other tasks; but not for long, for 


G O R G O 


15 

when the plague came she was the first from our 
house that died. 

But that morning we had no thought of the 
plague, which was still in Egypt, but only of the 
army of Archidamus, which was already upon our 
borders. Even while we waited, a light-armed run- 
ner came up panting, and was let in through a little 
door, which opened and shut quickly. I was grow- 
ing very hungry and impatient, but at length the 
heavy gates swung back, and we all rushed in, 
I sitting astride my father’s shoulder because of 
the crush, gripping hard on the crest of his helmet, 
as if it had been indeed a horse’s mane. 

And within I had my first vision of a city, — 
though, of course, I only remember what printed 
itself upon my childish eye. Behind loomed the 
great wall, steep and high, like an encircling preci- 
pice. Before us rose a long slope covered with 
houses, close packed and lying in courses, like the 
red tiles on a roof, only between the tiers ran nar- 
row cracks that were streets. All around us in 
the open spaces men and women and slaves were 
thronging, in fluttering garments of red and blue 
and gray, and others in sheepskins, and some almost 
naked, — such a multitude that it seemed to me 
the whole world must be gathered there. They were 
crowding and pressing among carts and horses and 
oxen and mules and asses, and the clamour was 
as when the herdsmen brought the cattle home to 
the sheds, only ten times greater. Further away I 
could only see a rolling field of heads, some bare and 


G O R G O 


16 

some in leather caps, with here and there the glint 
of a helmet; and this extended as far as I could 
see at all. 

I suppose that we had come to Piraeus first on 
account of the cattle, for I saw no more of them. 
Indeed, my attention was wholly taken up with 
the wild scene through which my father was bear- 
ing me; but presently he halted beside a door, 
which opened to let us in, but was hastily closed 
and barred as soon as we had entered. The rooms 
seemed very wide and cool and dark, and many 
servants were going about very quietly. Here I 
sat on a rug and had a great drink of goat’s milk 
and nibbled at a string of figs, listening the while 
to the trampling and shouting outside, and wonder- 
ing if the wall would not be burst in. 

But we did not linger long, for after a little my 
father got upon his horse, and I was lifted up and 
set before him — which delighted me greatly, for 
I had always admired my father’s horse, but had 
never been on his back; and so we forced our way 
through many narrow streets and crowded squares, 
some of the servants marching in front with staves 
to open a passage. From Piraeus we must have 
passed by the broad avenue between the Long 
Walls all the way to the Upper Town, for I remem- 
ber the overshadowing battlements on either side, and 
the ranges of tents and cabins which had been set 
up beneath them as a shelter for the fugitives ; and 
in one place I saw women sitting in the mouths 
of great earthen jars which had been laid side- 


G O R G O 


17 

wise in rows, with children peeping out over their 
shoulders like puppies from a kennel. The crowds 
were now less dense, yet the road was obstructed 
with piles of furniture and bedding, and the people 
were going and coming everywhere. Then we 
passed through another gate between two towers, 
where ranks of soldiers stood on guard with glit- 
tering shields and heavy lances ; they looked so terri- 
ble that I wondered if the Spartans would ever dare 
to meet them. Thence we came again between lines 
of houses, and the press and tumult were so great 
that we could scarcely make any headway, until 
at last we issued into a great square, fenced in with 
rows of creamy columns and long painted porches; 
and this, too, swarmed with people, tossing their 
heads like the huddled beasts in a stock-yard, so 
that the whole expanse quaked and weltered like 
a pond as I looked down upon it from the horse. 
Here something chanced beyond the understanding 
of a child, yet such that I could not well forget it. 

For as we entered this place, one of our servants, 
vexed with pushing and buffeting, struck with his 
stick a fellow in a leather cap who was insolent and 
would not make way for my father. And the man 
yelled with rage, and snatched the stick from our 
servant and brandished it against my father, railing 
at him for an aristocrat and an oligarch and a hater 
of the people, — words which sounded very dreadful 
in my ears. In a moment such a throng was gath- 
ered around us that we could not go forward; the 
servants dropped their staves and slunk behind us. 


1 8 


G O R G O 


The man who had been struck kept threatening my 
father with the stick, crying out that here was an 
aristocrat riding down the common people and set- 
ting his slaves to beat them ; I could hear my father 
grinding his teeth above my head, but he did not 
answer. Then some one threw a shard of a broken 
pot, and it hit the horse and stung him, so* that 
he reared till I thought we would fall backward; 
and others in the crowd began to grope on the 
ground for stones. 

But just as they were lifting their hands to throw, 
a great voice came booming in our ears, like the 
crash of a long wall falling; they paused and turned, 
even as they were swaying back their arms. And 
we saw a big man, with a coarse face and wide jaws 
and a black, bushy beard, shouldering through the 
crush; those who stood in his way he thrust aside 
with arms that were like a pair of legs for thick- 
ness, demanding why they were casting stones. 
Then, before any could answer, my father, slipping 
from the horse, caught me up and ran toward the 
man and laid me in his arms ; and my father spoke 
with a voice that shook as I had never heard it, 
not even when he spoke in anger among the slaves. 

“ Cleon,” he said, “ elsewhere we may contend, 
but here I stand as your suppliant and thank the 
gods who have sent you for my need. This boy, 
my only son, I lay in your hands as a pledge, and 
it shall well be worth your while to save him and 
me. My servant has struck a citizen, — not at my 
bidding, I swear it. Take the slave; he is yours 


G O R G O 


19 


to kill or keep, as you will, and more shall be added. 
You know me, what I am. But quiet these mad- 
men.’ ’ 

At first the man scowled and looked away, and 
made as if he would drop me on the ground, but 
I caught him by the beard so that he winced and 
held me up ; and I cried : “ Man, my father is not 
an aristocrat. He has come to fight the wicked 
Spartans.” 

At that the big face began to pucker, and the man 
broke into a laugh that was more like a bray; and 
hoisting me high he strode forward, shouting : 

“ Citizens, are you waging war on babies while 
the Spartans hew and burn in sight of the city walls ? 
Is it a time to fling stones when the enemy are hurl- 
ing spears ? I love not these knights — you know 
it well; and some day, with the help of Father 
Demus, I hope to pluck them off their horses to 
walk like you and me. But what of that to-day? 
There is war. The man is no traitor; I will stand 
for it. By Apollo, the first that lifts his hand 
to throw shall ride the knight’s horse himself where 
the darts are singing. As for Thraso there, let him 
cudgel the slave that swung the staff. His master 
yields him up; what more can you ask? Thump 
him, then, till he howls, — but make way for the 
knight who will battle for Athens. Did you not 
hear the word of the child? He speaks from his 
mother, and I will back him against twenty such 
liars as swear by all the gods on Olympus for three 
obols.” 


20 


G O R G O 


And they fell back crying, “ Cleon is right ! ” and 
“ Well said, Cleon ! ” I heard the stones dropping 
from their hands, thudding upon the hard earth. 

Then Cleon gave me such a squeeze that I gasped 
for breath, and with another laugh he tossed me 
back to my father. “ Go quickly, Hagnon,” he 
said, “ while the stones lie at rest ; and to-morrow 
send the slave as you have promised, with what 
more you will. Remember that but for the Tanner 
you would have slept this night under a monument 
of shards and tiles, and Athens would have 
had another tale of Lycidas to fright aristocrats. 
See to it that the boy’s word be true, that you fight 
for Athens, not plot against her. And let him not 
again be laid in the track of the plough, Hagnon. 
Our Demus is no Odysseus ; there is no feigning in 
his fits of madness. Some day when Pericles is 
busy with Aspasia, and Cleon is not at hand, it 
may go hard with you. Forget not the slave.” 

Thus far the whole scene so lives in my memory 
that I can even see the long shadow of a hand which 
seemed to reach out and clutch at our servant when 
Cleon pointed toward him. For on that day I was 
like a child who sits for the first time in a theatre, 
watching the actors so intently that he recalls every 
word and gesture and mimics them afterward in his 
play, repeating long speeches with every cadence 
perfect, but the meaning all awry. But after we 
left the great square I grew very weary, and remem- 
ber nothing more until at last we stopped at the 
door of our city house. 


II. 


Under Siege 

E VEN from the beginning the war had taken 
an evil bent, and the crowded town, like a 
caldron when the fire grows hot and the lid 
is pressed down too closely, hissed and sputtered 
with discontent. The people were furious because 
the generals would not lead them out to battle. 
Cleon stormed in the market ; the rabble roared 
for an assembly; tumult filled the streets. The 
fugitive farmers swarmed on the walls, and leaned 
from the battlements and cursed, while the enemy 
ravaged the fields unhindered in the plain below; 
and the angry watchers almost leaped from the 
turrets as they saw their hamlets blazing and their 
fruit-trees toppling to the axe. Only Pericles sat 
unmoved, — a very Sphinx of Egypt, cold and 
stony, brooding over the nation’s destiny. He rarely 
spoke, but when once his lips were opened it was 
as if Jove thundered. For him alone the applause 
was universal silence; the people wept but found 
no answer. 

Of all this, though its echo was ever in my ears, 
I as yet knew nothing clearly, for our doors were 
21 


22 


G O R G O 


kept shut as tightly as the city gates. Many times 
I crept through the long, dim passage leading out- 
ward, and pushed with all my strength against 
the nail-studded panels; but they never yielded, 
and Trogon, the porter, was always lurking there, 
spiderlike in his ambush, ready to pounce out of 
the shadows and wrap his ugly clutches round me. 
Then, breaking away, for sheer weariness and misery 
of spirit I would weep till the tears refused to 
come and my eyes were hot and dry, pining for the 
farm and the bare earth and the open sky; for I 
fancied that if I could only get through the door 
I might find them again. I dragged at my mother’s 
robe, begging that I might go home; but she put 
me off with words about the war and the Spartans 
until my baby soul grew desperate. 

“ Why doesn’t my father take his horse and his 
spear,” I cried, “ and go out with the men in brass 
and chase them away? ” For I thought that noth- 
ing could withstand my father’s horse, supported 
by a line of shields and lances such as I had seen 
under the tower. 

Then my grandfather called out from his great 
carved chair, “Well said, boy!” and applauded 
as if he had been listening to the orators in the 
assembly instead of sitting bowed in a dusky corner 
giving ear to the babble of a child. For he was 
too old now to do anything but sit and mutter. 

“ Yet lay no blame on your father, boy,” he 
went on, in a voice that was like the griding of 
steel on a stone. “ Never blame the good men of 


G O R G O 


23 


the city, boy. For Athens, child, is ruled to-day by 
a tyrant — a mighty tongue, loud among leather 
caps, dumb before helmets. It was not so when 
Cimon sailed the fleet, and Greece was one, and 
the Persian feared to look upon the sea.” And 
again he fell to muttering. 

Then my mother, seeing my eyes wide with won- 
der and fearing lest I vex the old man with ques- 
tions, explained that this was Pericles whose tongue 
ruled Athens, and he would let none go beyond the 
walls except such as went out in ships; whereupon 
I decided that Pericles must be the sentinel at the 
gate — whether man or dragon I was not sure, 
but trembled to think that we had passed so near. 

Yet I was not satisfied with my mother’s gentle 
words, considering that she was only a woman 
and could not know; and soon, while she was busy 
with the maids at the loom, I stole back to my grand- 
father, and laying hold of his bony fingers to arouse 
him, told all that was in my heart. At first he sniffed 
impatiently and tried to pull away his hand, but I 
held so fast he let it lie; and presently, reaching 
out with the other, he drew me between his knees 
and listened. When I had finished he laughed, 
yet so bitterly that I saw he was not really laugh- 
ing, but in earnest. And he said I had hit the truth ; 
that Pericles was indeed a dragon, bigger than the 
one that Cadmus killed at Thebes; and that more 
armed men had come out of his mouth, so that the 
land was full of them. “ And there will be no 
peace,” he cried, “ till the whole dragon’s brood 


2 4 


G O R G O 


is slain. Twenty and seven years,” he crooned — 
“ twenty and seven years — even as the prophet 
warned us — beginning in pestilence, ending in fam- 
ine — and then the walls shall fall and crush the 
last of them.” 

Then he fell into silence; and I crept away with 
my heart in the bottom of my stomach and the 
dragon gnawing at it. And this name, the noblest 
in Athens, became such a terror to me that the serv- 
ants presently observed it, and used Pericles instead 
of Mormo for a bugbear when I vexed them. For 
I had ceased to tremble at Mormo and Empusa, 
because my father laughed at them ; but I saw that 
he was always grave when Pericles was mentioned, 
and this to me was the seal of truth. 

Although I had fled in dismay from before my 
grandfather’s mantic passion, the very awe with 
which I now regarded him soon drew me back. At 
first I hung aloof and watched him from the furthest 
corner, thinking how much he looked like old Cronus 
on the picture vases, as he sat in his great chair, 
white and bent and heeding nothing. Yet at last 
the dim eyes perceived me, and a querulous voice 
called my name : 

“ Hither, little Theramenes ! Of what is the son 
of Hagnon afraid ? ” And soon I was again at 
his knees, recklessly plying my oracle with ques- 
tions. 

After that we were main comrades, my grand- 
father and I — we were both so lonely and so help- 
less, and so weary of the vacant hours. I tremble 


G O R G O 


25 

to think how completely I became a thing of this 
old man’s making ; for he opened his stores without 
reserve and gave me of his best and worst. 

Was I too apt a pupil? Some, perhaps, would say 
so, in view of what came after. And the old man’s 
blood was in my veins, though mingled with a 
sweeter strain, — which he esteemed a taint, for 
my mother was not of the pure Athenian stock, 
but an islander. He had forgiven her — almost 
— yet this was a sore spot on his calloused heart. 
“ Speak not of that,” he would mutter away down in 
his throat, “ speak not of it, and who, but one old 
man, will remember? Thy metal is good; thou art 
thy father’s son — what matters it of women ? ” 

From him — for though not untaught, I have 
always looked more on brass than on books — 
from him and his rambling monodies I learned 
most of what I know of our nation’s lore, both fact 
and fable. There were days when he would do 
little else but recite long passages from Homer — 
Iliad, Odyssey, and much besides that I have never 
seen in writing, nor know if it ever was written. 
Homer he called it all. Strange work he made of 
it, for his chanting was like the rhythmic discords 
of a brazier’s hammer braying upon the shield- 
plates; yet the flow and swell of the verse was 
beyond any man’s spoiling. My blood was stirred, 
and I, too, began to recite the lines that rang out 
most clarion-like. But it was not as a lesson that I 
recited them. Round and round the room I would 


26 G O R G O 

march, with measured step, to the music of those 
opening lines : — 

Sing, O Muse, of the wrath of Peleus’ son, of the deadly, 
Baleful strife that oppressed with woes untold the Achaeans, — 

and so on until my breath was lost in panting ; while 
my grandfather beat with his heels and joined in 
with raucous trumpetings, and my mother appeared 
at the door with a flutter of snowy linen, but turned 
away without a word. She, I think, had little 
liking for Homer; but for him who would stand 
in the phalanx when the paean sounds there is no 
other poet. Then first I became a soldier, and tasted 
in advance the wine of battle. When Diomed dared 
the gods, when Hector shattered the gates, when 
toiling Ajax withstood the onset at the ships and 
with his single lance thrust back an assaulting army, 
then a new fire was kindled in my soul and a great 
flame mounted up within me, as when a beacon is 
lighted on a tower; and I longed for a breastplate 
and a spear, and an irresistible arm, and some mighty 
foeman, a very Hector, with chariot and horses 
and resplendent mail bearing down upon me. What 
boy has not found such dreams in Homer — if his 
blood runs scarlet? And how many have faced the 
spear-points of their country’s enemies the better 
for it! 

And out of this grew my favourite play. With 
knitted brow and labouring breath, a pot-lid firmly 
braced upon my arm and the applauding veteran’s 
staff well levelled, shield to shield with the shades 


G O R G O 


27 


of many ancestors I charged down an imaginary 
hill-slope straight against the foe, and having put 
them to rout and rushed after in mad pursuit, 
plunged into' imaginary waters to lay hold of the 
fleeing galleys — singing the while no imaginary 
paean, for I had learned the right cadence even 
then, and the words of it, too. And that, I re- 
member, pleased my father when at last he came 
in from scouting, so brown and lean from rough 
service that I hardly knew him, and without his 
horse, which had gone lame on the stones. 

And now, with one more episode, this ominous old 
man passes from my life. It was late in the spring of 
the second year, and we were sitting on the house- 
top, my grandfather and I, basking in the clear 
sunshine; and very good it seemed after the long 
darkness of the rooms below. Before us, not far 
away, rose the steep crags of the Acropolis, its stern 
brow crowned with a flowery wreath of temples, 
the most splendid garden of the gods that earth 
could offer, — then so new that all the richness of 
its varied colouring shone undimmed, and even from 
where we saw the vision, the sculptured gods and 
demigods of frieze and pediment stood out to the 
eye like living things. From below, from among 
the red tiles of the city, mounted a broad stairway 
of whitest marble, flecked with the figures of those 
who came and went, leading up to the glories above 
through pillared pylons that were themselves great 
temples, more perfect than ever chisel shaped except 
in Athens. High over all, on the topmost terrace, 


28 


G O R G O 


too mighty to be housed in any of her shrines, 
towered the mail-clad goddess of war, our protecting 
deity, with her massy spear so uplifted that its 
shadow fell afar on the roofs of the city that she 
loved. Its point seemed blood-stained then, but 
this doubtless was only the glow of sunshine on 
the ruddy bronze; yet her whole aspect seemed 
menacing and fraught with fire, and I feared while 
I adored her. 

But soon, when I had gazed for a little while 
and sated my eyes with these novelties of form 
and colour, my thoughts wandered somewhat from 
the scene before me, and because I saw many people 
strayed back to the riot in the market, where we 
had once so narrowly escaped from stoning. And 
presently, as the old man sat silent, I began to urge 
him with questions, — why the people hated us so, 
and what was the meaning of that evil word the 
man had spoken ; for it stuck in my heart that my 
father had been called an aristocrat. 

But my grandfather, when he had drawn in his 
eyes and again gave heed to me, answered the last 
question first; and he spoke sharply, with a sort 
of petulance. 

“ Boy,” he cried, “ that was no lie, but the truth, 
and wrong were you to deny it. For it is not an 
evil word, except in the mouths of slaves and the 
sons of slaves; and such are the rabble of Cleon. 
But not of such are you. Hear me, boy, first-born 
of a noble house in the foremost city of all Jove’s 
Hellas.” 


G O R G O 


29 

And my heart grew big as I listened, and he 
was pleased to see my breath come and go. 

“ Strike ever for Athens, boy,” he chanted — for 
a new tone had come to him, and he spoke with 
the clang of an orator before the people — “ strike, 
and strike sharply, for thy native land, never against 
her. Strike down her enemies with hand and tongue, 
and her betrayers by what means you may; for 
it matters little of the means if the end be true, 
and crooked paths often lead to holy places. And 
if in doing these things it shall come to thee to 
die, even by the hand of those who should have 
aided thy endeavour, speak a brave word, boy, and 
die boldly. For many among thy ancestors have 
died a good death for Athens. But as for Cleon 
and his brawlers, that would make their foul breath 
law and spit upon their betters, may it ever be 
thy wish to cast their carcasses into the barathrum 
to be entombed by dogs; and may Athena make 
strong thy arm to achieve it.” Here he was seized 
with a fit of coughing that stopped him for a sea- 
son. But he began again : “ Those whom they taunt 
as aristocrats,” he cried, “are but those who have 
possessed this city from of old, and were the best 
of her citizens from the beginning. By them alone 
were her glories won; by them alone can she be 
saved from present shame.” 

As he paused, we noticed that the street below, 
which, when he began to speak, was thronged with 
hurrying figures, was now empty and silent. The 
air hung thick and dead, and through it swam a 


30 


G O R G O 


faint odour, mawkish, like the scent of decaying 
lilies, so that I shrank to breathe. And with this 
came a dismal tremor, the eleleu of wailing, at 
first almost melodious in the distance, then throb- 
bing painfully upon the ear as the cry drew nearer. 
For as we listened, gazing up and down, a sinister 
procession swung in view. In front were two or 
three hired mourners, scurrying along at a very 
unusual pace, and only at intervals shrilling a cry. 
As we watched them, the hindmost darted down an 
alley and disappeared. Then came the bier, borne 
by pallid slaves, stumbling in their haste, with the 
white shroud pulled awry, giving a glimpse of 
hideously distorted features; but none stopped to 
adjust it. Close behind walked a woman, her gar- 
ments rent, her cheeks torn and streaming blood, 
yet ashen with anguish, frantically wringing her 
hands. Further back straggled a few more, black- 
robed but white with fear, nearest of kin, no doubt, 
but in space holding as far aloof as might be. Be- 
sides the slaves and hirelings, not a man was in 
sight. 

The bier was now directly beneath us, and as it 
passed our door the woman broke forth with a 
shriek, the most dreadful that I had ever heard. 

“ Let us go down/’ croaked my grandfather, in 
a changed voice. “ It has reached our quarter, 
now.” 


III. 


The Great Pestilence 

T HAT was the end. I learned no more lessons 
from my grandfather, whether of good or evil. 
The very next day he was stricken, and the 
house rang with his cries for water and his curses 
because it brought no relief. Only by constant 
watching was he kept from flinging himself into the 
water-tanks. For in his ravings he thought himself 
Tantalus, up to the throat in the Tartarian Lake, — 
only the waters that fled from his lips were boiling 
hot and seethed his body; and he tried lake after 
lake, but all were hot. Then he was Sisyphus toil- 
ing on the Stygian mount, rolling up the accursed 
stone that ever escaped him near the summit, — only 
the stone was red-hot, and scorched his chest and 
arms and thighs as he struggled against it. Last of 
all he was Ixion, bound in a wheel of living fire that 
whirled forever in the darkness of Cocytus ; and the 
whirling fanned the flames, and they roared and 
grew black and entered into his vitals and consumed 
him utterly, leaving only an ashy shell. And indeed, 
this was very near the truth; for when at last the 
fever left him, all was gone. 

31 


32 


G O R G O 


Of this they told me afterward, for then I was hur- 
ried away to the furthest chambers in the women’s 
part, beyond the great room where the looms were 
standing, unused now. But it mattered little where 
they kept me, for the terror and the taint were every- 
where; and I too was touched, though because I 
was but a child, with a body so fresh and dewy that 
it would not burn, it was the lightest touch, I 
think, that ever fell from that skeleton hand. 

But on my grandfather this dread scourge 
wrought its worst, save death. Yet he survived all, 
the fever with its fiercest torments and then the 
wasting marasmus, and lived on for many years; 
but he lived not otherwise than an ancient tree*- 
trunk lives, gnarled, bent, and leafless, without 
sense or motion, only not quite dry and dead. 
Much better had he died with the rest. He no 
longer saw or heard anything, nor ever stirred from 
his chair; even his rasping tongue lay silent in its 
ill-closed vault. The very food was pressed against 
his lips; then his jaws flew open and he ate. I 
never again so much as touched his hand, not even 
with my finger-tips. He had become a horror to 
me. The whole man was a sepulchre, ghost- 
haunted. 

The next that was seized in our house was the 
woman who had once been my nurse; and she died 
screaming on the ninth day. Out of this grew an 
ugly incident. They gave less heed to me now, for 
they deemed me exempt, and indeed, a favourite 
of the gods; so I went about unwatched. Soon I 


G O R G O 


33 


perceived that the servants were utterly panic- 
stricken; something there was that they dreaded 
more even than the plague. Not one of them would 
go into the weaving-room, nor approach its door, — 
especially after nightfall; and at last I drew it out 
of them that the ghost of the woman came there. 
Three separate times they had seen her, standing 
beside her loom in some frightful guise of which they 
would not tell me anything, but in some sort 
shrouded, waving her arms and banning. Thrice, 
they said, she had banned all in the house; and their 
lips went the colour of clay. 

Two nights later, in the long passage leading to 
the women’s quarters — did I too meet her ? I 
know not, — neither what it was nor how to describe 
it. I saw nothing, but something there was in that 
darkness, — a thing full of misery and fury, most 
like to a disincarnate curse, uttering itself without 
lips, impotent against my body, yet floating close, 
nay, reaching out after me as I fled on weak knees 
to the lighted hall. 

There I found my father — for he was not cam- 
paigning now — and in my terror I told him all, 
both what the maids had said, and this. Then was 
my father angry in a way that was good to see. 
He called before him all the servants, men and 
maids; and they came in haste and stood in fear 
as he questioned them. 

“ Which one of you buried this woman ? ” he 
asked them. 


It was Tribon that answered, “ I, master, with 
Manes.” 

“ You buried her?” And Tribon quaked, but 
did not answer. 

“ Who among you saw the spirit in the weaving- 
room? ” 

Three maids fell on their knees before him : “We, 
my lord, but — ” and their voices sunk away be- 
neath his eye. 

“ How was this spirit garbed ? ” 

“ Still in her shroud, my lord, that we put about 
her. That is, in a way, my lord ; but the shroud was 
foully torn and stained with filth.” 

“ And she — was all there? ” 

“ O master, not all ! ” And their teeth were chat- 
tering as they answered. “ The face — it was but 
a shadow, my lord; nay, not all was there.” 

Then my father’s eyes blazed like a dooming 
god’s as he turned upon the men. 

“ Curs,” he cried, “ of the carrion breed, ye have 
cast out this woman unburied to your like! ” 

And they answered gasping, as they grovelled 
on the ground : “ We were afraid, my lord — we 
were afraid; and she was but a slave, as we.” 

“ And fear ye nothing now? Take what is need- 
ful,” he cried, in a voice that thundered through the 
house, “ and search her out, where ye have left her, 
and bury her as best ye may. Then back to your 
scourging.” 

And they crept away and obeyed him, even to the 
coming back for the scourging ; for they feared him 


G O R G O 


35 

more than pestilence or spirit when his wrath was 
full, and their hearts became like water. But before 
the month was out they both were dead. And the 
maids, too, died, all three within the year. 

Somehow, after that, my father seemed nearer 
to me, and it was to him that I came with my 
hardest questions. And they were indeed hard ques- 
tions that I asked him. For so many dying and the 
fear and gloom that were all about us moved me to 
much pondering on the hereafter ; and I puzzled my- 
self greatly, as others have done. At last, after long 
waiting, one evening when my father sat beside my 
mother near the hearth, I clasped his knees and let 
flow my troubles, entreating him to tell me all the 
truth. I noticed that he first glanced sidewise 
toward my mother, who sat with her busy hands at 
rest, folded upon her lap, her face sad enough — 
for none could be merry unless they were glutted 
with wine — but with lips so sweet and eyes so full 
of gentleness under their drooping lashes, that I 
then began to realise that my mother was beautiful 
beyond the rest, and my father loved her. But he 
turned again quickly and answered me as plainly 
as he might, though a keen note of impatience 
sounded in his voice and he was ill at ease. For 
I had asked him what became of those who died, and 
why our servant had come back to the house to 
curse us. 

“ Why ask these things,” he cried, “ which none 
can know and none can answer ? Whether the dead 
are anything, or if anything have any longer memory 


G O R G O 


36 

and sense, who but the gods can tell thee? To me 
the dead often seem but clay and bone, their life but 
a flame that is quenched, and these phantoms no 
more than shadows, sent up, perhaps, from the 
caverns of the world below to augment our ills. 
This ghost, as they call it, was more likely but some 
malignant sprite — for the city, doubtless, is now 
full of them — which took advantage of the negli- 
gence of those sacrilegious hounds, who have now 
paid their forfeit, to assume the aspect of thy 
mother’s maid to vex us. Such is my present judg- 
ment,” said he; “ but whether these rites of burial 
truly serve the dead, as most men hold, or whether 
they serve them not, as being beyond all service, 
they at least prevent these ill happenings of ghosts 
and apparitions. And for this, or perchance for that 
other reason, the gods themselves have imposed those 
rites,” he concluded. 

Not all of this could I follow with full com- 
prehension, but the main purport was clear. “ And 
is there truly no three-headed dog,” I cried, “ and no 
ferryman with his boat, and is it not for him that 
the obol is put in one’s mouth? And do not the 
wise and good, who were just in their lives on earth, 
ever dance in those fields of Elysium, and are not 
the souls of perjurers sunk in the mud?” The 
tears gushed in my eyes, and my mother too looked 
troubled. 

“Come, come!” said my father, more lightly. 
“I would not spoil your toys, child, not one; but 
you adjured me so solemnly to speak true that I 


G O R G O 


37 

gave you what was topmost in my heart. Nor have 
I said that any of these tales are lies, not I, but 
only that I am less sure of some of them than 
when I used to lay my ear upon the ground to hear 
Cerberus roaring. As I told you, the great majority 
of men believe that we still live, so to say, when 
we are dead, and that not the gods only are immortal, 
but we too, after a fashion, so as still to know some- 
thing of joy and pain. Yet that death is a thing to 
be wishful of I have never heard, unless for those 
to whom life has become but a bane; and I would 
have thee make good use of thy sunshine while thou 
hast it, for that death-life yonder would seem to be 
as scantly lighted as it is scantly known. ’Tis a 
thin life at best, I fear, much like to dreaming, and 
I make little of beings too shadowy to bear the 
weight of armour. Yet myriads have believed in 
this, and from the oldest times, when the gods, they 
say, spoke clearer than Apollo’s oracle nowadays; 
and quite likely I am wrong in ever doubting. For 
it seems- impossible that all have been deceived, and 
that, too, in the wisest ages, and that none ever 
found it out until now. No jury in Athens would 
allow that on any man’s argument. But if this is 
your wish, to hear what the poets have told us, 
and not the reasonings of the philosophers, I could 
tell you that, doubtless, — though most of it, I 
think, you know already. ’Tis at least a pretty 
story; but your mother, child,” and again he glanced 
that way, “ your mother can tell it much better than 
I, that am a soldier of many battles, and have slain 


G O R G O 


38 

so many men with sword and spear that I am slow 
of belief that they are yet alive. Let her tell it, 
and I too will listen.” 

Then my mother, after a little silence, lifted her 
eyes, that shone like the pole star in the wet sky, 
when the mists are melting on the sea. 

“ It is not for me, my lord, to set my reasons 
against thine,” she said; and again her eyelids 
drooped under his gaze. “ And yet, my lord, may 
not the same melody which has died upon the harp- 
strings again be sounded? And though the harp 
itself be broken, and its idle fragments burned to 
ashes, may not the same melody be sounded on new 
strings by him who knows its harmonies? And do 
not the gods know all the music of our souls? 

“ And do not the dead still live in memory, my 
lord, and most of all wake when we sleep, and walk 
before our eyes in dreams, and speak to us, so that 
we know their voices, just as of old? And how 
could these things be, if the dead were altogether 
nothing? And who would refrain from crime, or 
who would endure to live in all these troubles, if 
death were indeed the end of all, and nothing more 
ever came of virtue, and nothing more of wrong ? 

“ And you, my lord, would you not weep thrice 
as much when I too am dead, if no spirit lingered in 
your house, and I never came again to soothe your 
sorrow, not even in the airy substance of a dream ? ” 

And as my father listened to the music of her 
voice, yet answered nothing, a tear hung in the 
middle of his cheek, and he left it there. 


G O R G O 


39 

“ But this, my lord, is not the tale you asked for, 
that I have often told, and will tell again. For I 
love the tale that tells how the dead are not truly 
dead but live; and my own mother sang me parts 
of it in far-off Ceos, when I was still so little that 
I nestled in her arms. Whether every single word 
is true I do not know,” she said, “ but I do know that 
it is truer than the strange, unhappy teachings of 
those philosophers.” 

And she fondled my face as she looked back at 
my father, with eyes full lifted now. For I had 
slipped from his knees and climbed upon her lap; 
and her words had a new weight for me when I 
saw my father listening. 

“ First,” she said, “ I must tell you something of 
this great world that is all around us, how it is 
fashioned. It is vaster than you can think, and the 
sunny earth, on which we live, is but a little part 
of it, floating in the middle of space, borne up by 
some sort of necessity ; for necessity, they say, is the 
power that makes things as they are.” 

“ But Atlas ” — interrupted my father — “ how 
about Atlas? Or have you gone over to the phi- 
losophers already?” 

“ About Atlas,” she answered, “ I admit that I do 
not well understand, — unless he be but another 
name for that necessity, upholding all. Let him 
pass, then, as one of those fictions of the poets of 
which you so often remind me. For they say that 
he stands in the deeps, with his feet in the bottom of 
the void, and upholds both earth and heaven upon 


4 o 


G O R G O 


his shoulders; but I cannot persuade myself that 
any real being is so monstrous. Jove himself would 
be less — much less — so that his thunderbolts would 
be like little pebbles thrown by a child against a 
man in armour.” 

Well am I answered, though from woman’s lips it fell, 

quoted my father, smiling ; “ and no philosopher 
could expound it better. For if Atlas is but a 
mythic saying for necessity, he* is indeed greater than 
Jove; for it is conceded by the wisest that Jove 
himself bows to necessity.” 

“But the void,” I cried, “where is it?” For 
all this about necessity and the philosophers was a 
weariness to me; and I could see no reason why 
Atlas should not bear his load, when Hercules, who 
was not as big, had once borne it for him while he 
went for the apples. 

“ The void,” said my mother, winding her arms 
about me, “ is the vast abyss called Tartarus, quite 
beneath the earth.” And she drew me closer, for 
this was terrible even to think of. “It is so deep 
that if a stone should fall down all day, when evening 
came it would still be falling, far from the bottom ; 
only there is never any evening there, but night 
always, and it is darker than anything we know. 
And in that darkness, in its very lowest regions, lie 
all things that are too evil ever to come upon the 
earth; and the Titans have been cast down there, 
and the giants that would have wrecked both earth 
and sky ; and into that same place, I am sure, will go 


G O R G O 


4i 

at last this dreadful plague, which is more than 
earth can bear.” 

“ May thy word be a prophecy ! ” breathed my 
father. 

“ Nay,” said my mother, sadly, “ it will not go 
until its appointed work is done. But there is some- 
thing else which seems to me most terrible of all. 
For those seers that can read the secrets of the gods 
and have spent their lives interpreting the oracles 
of Orpheus, — those hoary, holy devotees who dwell 
in solitudes until they hear the voices of things that 
speak not, and see the things that are not yet, and 
the things that are forbidden ” — she paused. 

“ Speak,” commanded my father. 

“ They have uttered a warning so awful that it 
almost stopped my heart.” Her face was alabaster, 
and her arms were weak around me. “ For they 
say — if those ancient oracles be true — that even 
the souls of men, should any become so evil that 
no good can ever reach them, they too are cast down 
at last into the same black gulf, to lie in that dark- 
ness always with those accursed things that writhe 
and creep and flutter there.” 

Then my mother so shut her arms about me that 
I was in pain, and my father breathed hard. 

“Woman” — and he spoke with something of 
that sternness which made many fear him — “ these 
are new doctrines, and to me they have little savour 
of gods’ temples or of the teachings of my youth. 
Nor did I suspect that my wife was an initiate, deep 


42 G O R G O 

versed in hidden and dubious mysteries, — which, if 
known, are best untold.” 

My mother’s cheeks, as she bent to kiss me, were 
like the faint coals now sinking in ashes on the 
hearth ; for the room had darkened, and the shadows 
were creeping toward us from every corner. Her 
voice had choked, and it faltered a little when she 
spoke. 

“ My lord,” she answered, humbly, “ I began those 
words thoughtless of where they led, and would 
gladly have left them unuttered, for they fill my 
soul with terror. Yet you bade me speak, and your 
word is my law.” 

My father said not a word, at first, but beckoned 
to the waiting slave to lay on fresh coals and blow 
them to redness. And then — 

“ Tell on thy tale, sweet wife,” he said, “ nor mind 
the quick speech of one who deals with men and 
must ever smite them with his tongue. Tell thy 
tale to the end ; but leave yonder crazed mystics to 
mumble their ill words in their unkempt beards. 
Whether their lore be holy or unholy, it suits not 
thee, nor pleases me. Think not of them.” 

And my mother, with a little catch, as if this 
were not so easy, began again as she was bid. 

“ Let us leave the dark gulf,” she said, “ for the 
light of the sun never visits it, and I trust no soul 
of man was ever there. Let us rather climb up into 
heaven, which the gods have made their dwelling- 
place and where all is good and pure. Yet this too 
is a long way off, though it looks so near ; for the 


G O R G O 


43 

heavens are lifted as high above us as that abode 
of evil things is sunk below. And if thy father 
should shoot an arrow against the sky, and it should 
fly on swiftly all day long, never falling back, the 
evening would find that arrow still speeding up- 
ward and far below the dome of heaven; yet the 
gods are able to traverse all that space in a moment 
of time. And the crown of this dome of the sky is 
truly the summit of Olympus ; though doubtless the 
mountain that leads through the clouds is the easi- 
est way to reach it. But whence else than from the 
loftiest summit of the sky could the gods see all that 
men are doing, both good and bad, over all the earth ? 
And there, upon a throne of snowy clouds, sits Jove 
himself, as radiant as the sun; and all around him 
dwell the other gods in golden houses, like the moon 
and stars. And even when Jove has gathered the 
dusky storm-clouds and spread them out like a cur- 
tain under the vault of the sky, and the earth is 
shadowed by them, the region above is still fair and 
shining. For the ether is not like the air that blows 
about the earth, heavy with fogs and rain and foul 
with dust, and so often tainted with these deadly 
vapours, but a purer element, instinct with light 
like the flowing sunshine. And indeed, they say that 
the sunshine itself is but the ether shooting down- 
ward from the sky and mingling in the air, so that 
men can breathe it; and that where there is light 
there is life, and where there is no light there is 
only death; but because on the earth there is both 
light and darkness, here is both life and death. And 


G O R G O 


44 

in that high place of the heavens, if we could reach 
it, we should find no souls of the dead, not even the 
spirits of the wise and good whom ‘the gods have 
loved. For only the gods can live in the bright, 
thin ether, which is like a flame to the shades of 
mortals and would burn them to nothingness, as 
the sun burns up the mists. No shade could exist for 
an instant in that region of all-pervading light ; and 
even upon the earth no ghost is ever seen in the 
sunshine, but they hide themselves in graves and 
ruined houses, and lurk in shadowy forests and all 
manner of gloomy places, and walk only at night; 
and soon they fly away to the part where sunlight 
never comes.” 

“ And where is that, dear mother? ” I asked, ex- 
pectant; for now I felt that we were coming to 
familiar places. 

“ In the land that lies beyond the golden sunset," 
she answered me — and her voice was still and 
dreamy, like a whispering of the wind — “ so far 
away that all the nations of living men lie between, 
and mountains, and deserts, and wild forests, and 
raging torrents. Even when one has crossed the 
tides of ocean, whose slow stream circles round the 
earth we know, he is only in the twilight-land where 
all is rosy or golden, and the weary shades who are 
seeking the shadow-country still have far to go. 
But at last they reach a dim region that is the outer 
edge of darkness, and there is the river Styx, and 
Charon and his boat, of which you know.” 

“ Yes,” I cried, “ I know about that.” 


G O R G O 


45 

“ And there a great multitude of souls are ever 
gathered, and they hover along the shore like a pale, 
wavering mist; for there is still a little light in their 
substance because they are so lately dead. And 
some, who have been rightly dealt with by their kin- 
dred, whose souls have been sweetened by the holy 
rites of burial and purged of all infections of the 
flesh by the dust or the fire, — these, when they have 
given up to him that obol, the last token that is left 
them of the world of men, he takes over gladly. 
But if they will not yet give him the obol, he turns 
them back ; and he drives away also those who have 
not been rightly buried, about whom lingers some 
taint of the flesh. And these wander on the winds 
for many years, ever sighing and moaning; and 
sometimes they come back to haunt and trouble the 
living, and especially to punish those who have 
neglected them. Such a spirit, as I believe thy father 
also thinks in his heart, was she who affrighted thee 
in the passage, yet could not harm thee because it 
was not from thee that she had suffered wrong. But 
at last even these pass over too, when their bones 
are white and all is sweetened by the lapse of time.” 

“ This, in good truth, is as I learned it,” said my 
father. 

“ But how,” cried I, “ about those who were evil 
in their lives ? ” 

“ They,” said my mother, “ at least, if they were 
very bad indeed, soon find that they can go no 
further. For those who were guilty of any horrid 
sacrilege, or of perjury, or of treason against their 


G O R G O 


46 

country and its gods, are so heavily weighted by 
these crimes that they sink in a deep morass which 
stretches along the further shore, some sinking only 
to the neck, but others deep down in the slimy mud ; 
and there they lie in misery and filth for a myriad of 
years, as some say.” 

“ That, indeed, seems but just,” said my father. 

“ What ever becomes of them at last I do not 
know ” — and she shuddered. “ But the rest are 
able to cross the marsh, some not without a struggle, 
but some more lightly, and those who were really 
good without so much as soiling their feet. Thence 
they pass on by winding paths, over dreary plains 
where nothing grows but the asphodel, and through 
cavernous places, amid precipices and dreadful 
chasms ; and here some that were not well instructed 
of the way fall behind and lose themselves and 
wander long; but the light of the funeral pyre and 
the prayers of friends are a help to them. But the 
rest, and they too in time, come finally to the region 
where the gods of darkness dwell and reign forever. 
And here a great gate rises, and beside it sits 
Minos, who will not let all pass in at once; so that 
many wait long in the outer darkness, while the fruit 
of their deeds is ripening on the earth ; and of these 
some go back to the wilderness, but some at length 
enter in. And within is light, not of the sun, but 
soft and sweet, so that it harms them not though 
they are only shadows. And there they ever dance 
and sing, with what joy they may, through all the 


G O R G O 


47 

ages; or if there be anything else that comes after, 
I know not what it is.” 

She ended, sighing. My father sprang to his feet. 

“ May they long dance their dances without thee, 
wife of my heart! The coals are black on the 
hearth ; it is midnight, and as dark as the paths of 
this heavy-hearted tale. Let us have done.” 

Then a servant came, and with a lamp that flick- 
ered through the draughty hall, as if it fought with 
the shadows, led us to the inner chambers. 

I am glad that I listened so intently to my mother’s 
words that night. I am glad that I left my father’s 
knee to climb upon her lap, and bore so patiently 
with her caresses. They were the last. For she too 
was stricken — my mother. She too — with all that 
fiery anguish — until, like the fragrance of a wasted 
flower, her soul was wafted whither she herself had 
told us. So, at least, I had been ready to believe ; 
but my faith died when I saw her suffer. It came 
into my mind that Jove, perhaps, was dead, and all 
those evil things in Tartarus had climbed up into 
heaven. Anyhow, the gods were of no avail in that 
affliction. It is too much. I cannot talk of it. Any- 
thing else but that. 


IV. 

From a House of Slaves 

A FTER my mother’s funeral, when all was fin- 
ished, and he had cried the last farewells in 
a voice that was dry with unslaked pain, my 
father sat bowed in the darkest corner two whole 
days, never moving, his face like a slab of marble. 
The servants came and went without a sound, lest 
he break out upon them ; yet he scarcely seemed more 
alive than that other who hung senseless in his great 
chair by the inner door, neither grieving that any 
were dead nor rejoicing that he himself had breath. 
But on the third morning, as the darkness drifted 
from the sky and the window in the roof became a 
pale circle of light, my father started up suddenly 
and went out, taking Pistias. A few days later we 
learned that he had sailed for Thrace; for that was 
where the best fighting was then. 

Yet he had not forgotten me — not altogether — 
though he spoke no word. Before embarking he 
had bought six new slaves, which he sent back to the 
house, — one of them, a Syracusan, well instructed 
in music and letters, who was to be my tutor. That, 
however, proved an ill venture, for I hated this fel- 
48 


G O R G 


O 


49 


low from the beginning. He declared that Homer 
was too deep and too full of hidden meanings for a 
child, and set me to learn long, dull passages from 
Theognis and Solon. So I sat on the floor at his 
feet, reciting in weary singsong : — 

Heaven to the unjust oft doth allow long years of abundance 
While to the just, harsh want seems to deride true worth ; 

Yet will I ne’er choose wealth unjustly attained — 

But here I broke off impatiently. “ Then are the 
just men fools,” I cried, “ and the gods themselves 
love the unjust better, if they are clever.” 

And he told me that if I said such things as that 
Mormo would get me; and that some day I would 
surely lie in the mud by Styx. And I scorned him 
to his face. 

Then he turned to whining, and said that little 
boys should respect their elders even if they had 
been so unfortunate as to be sold from their native 
country and to lose their liberty; for his soul, he 
said, was free. And to this I answered nothing, but 
I thought in my heart that his very soul was the soul 
of a slave. 

At last I rebelled outright; and he, with a cold 
sweat shining on his face, lifted his stick as if he 
would strike me. Then it was that my hand flew to 
my bosom, and I made after him with my knife 
while he fled among the women ; but when they held 
out their robes against me for a shield, as if I had 
been a little dog with his teeth snapping, I laughed 
and put back the knife. After that he dared set 


50 


G O R G O 


me no more tasks. Except when I bade him help me 
with the phorminx, which I rather liked, there were 
no more lessons. As for the flute, I would none of 
it, like Alcibiades, though I had not yet heard of 
him. 

But I soon perceived that things were going much 
amiss. The Syracusan, who had been appointed by 
my father to act as steward, could control the rest 
no more than me. The servants had become very 
disorderly and even insolent ; I was little regarded by 
most of the household, and it was only by fierce 
insistence that I could get any service rendered. 
Yet a few were not wholly unfaithful, the best 
being Trogon. He too would have his pleasure, but 
he held to his duty and beat the others into a sort of 
subjection, for his boar-spear was a thing to be 
feared, and his hand was heavy even when he reeked 
with wine. I often sat beside him when his speech 
was thick, but he never forgot that I was his master’s 
son. I liked him well, and it was a further bond 
between us that we both hated the Syracusan. 

I decided, after a time, to flee from the house; 
I could not suffer the insolence and neglect of slaves. 
Like Telemachus, I would go forth and seek my 
father. But Trogon stood in my path. Trogon 
was ever by the bolted door. 

How I should find my father I had little idea. I 
would go to the harbour and ask for a ship with 
twenty good rowers. Perhaps Athena herself would 
help me, as she had aided the son of Odysseus, when 
she saw that I too was brave and good. Anyhow, 


G O R G O 


5i 

my father must be told that the servants were grown 
riotous and were robbing him, and that the Syra- 
cusan was worst of all. 

So I set myself busily to find a device to beguile 
Trogon, but for a long while nothing came of it. 
First I took him strong wine, breaking open the 
choicest jars which the servants had not yet dared 
to touch. He drank greedily all I brought, but kept 
his post when he could hardly keep his legs; the 
lightest rattle at the door would start him up. Even 
when I raised a false alarm of thieves and ran 
through the house screaming, he was not deceived, 
but brayed with laughter at the fright of the maids. 
“ By the hound,” he cried, “ ’tis better than Empusa. 
The little master has paid them back with a cow and 
a calf.” I was amusing myself by scaring them, 
he thought, and chuckled mightily in his drink at the 
wit of it. 

Then I tried to get him to let me keep the door 
a little while. 

“ Not me,” he said. “ Ed go drunker’n a Mace- 
donian, once I was free of the door. And what 
would the master say if he came unexpected, which 
is the way he has, and finds me snorting like the 
guggle of a wine-sack somewhere down amongst 
the jugs, a good three days from knowing what’s my 
own name? He’d hang me up, the master would, 
and send for Strephon, the body-twister.” 

“ What else will he do when I tell him ? For I 
shall tell ” — and the tears of anger started in my 
eyes. 


G O R G O 


52 

“ No, no,” he wheedled, “ not you. It isn’t the 
little master that would make trouble for Trogon and 
wants to hear his bones crack — poor old Trogon 
that loves him, and keeps the door so good and tight, 
and drives off the thieves.” 

I promised very sincerely that I would speak only 
of his faithful service ; the others I would denounce. 
Something in my tone appeared to sober him. The 
leer slid from his face as he laid his hand upon my 
shoulder and whispered, hoarsely : “ Tell your father 
when he comes, little master, and let their backs be 
flayed ; but make no threats before them now. The 
Syracusan will be afraid; he too has a knife, and 
his heart is craven. Like the snakes, he will wriggle 
away when the holes are open; but his cheeks are 
full of poison, and when he is fretted with fear he 
will strike.” 

These words startled me, for I felt that they 
were spoken from the Delphic tripod ; but they only 
confirmed my resolve to run away. I was grateful to 
Trogon, but I ceased pouring wine upon this door- 
stone, or praying to it. I looked about me for a 
lever. And in the end, with a lie about the Syra- 
cusan and Lyssa, a slave-girl whom he loved, I did 
beguile him. He surged to his feet, lurched a mo- 
ment, steadying himself upon the boar-spear, then 
ran out like a wounded horse, reeling but swift. 

At last the great door of the world stood before 
me unguarded. In an instant I had climbed on a 
stool and the bolts were sliding. A cry rang from 
within ; I strained against the creaking valves, and 


G O R G O 


53 


as they parted sprang through and fled down the 
street. I laughed as I ran, for I could still hear 
Trogon’s curses and the cries of the Syracusan and 
the women. There was no pursuit, yet I doubled like 
a hare, darting down the first alley, swerving to left 
or right wherever I saw an opening, until my breath 
was quite spent. I found myself in a close, so filthy 
that my bare feet slipped in the slime and I fell on 
a heap of garbage, from which I looked up in sur- 
prise to see the cliffs and glimmering marbles of the 
Acropolis just above me. It was a noisome hole, 
yet I would not turn back, but squeezed out by an 
angle between the houses, and struggled on through 
a tangle of walls and open spaces full of rubbish ; 
and this brought me to the edge of a large enclosure 
across which I saw colonnades and what I took for 
an immense stairway, with steps that ranged far up 
the slope in widening curves. I remember thinking 
that it looked like a great white mussel-shell leaning 
against the hillside, for its gleaming concave lay 
almost iridescent in the sun. Had I known that this 
was the city theatre, where the choruses danced 
and tragedies were acted in the festival season, I 
might have ventured nearer; but I feared the open 
spaces and skirted along the edge, then followed a 
winding lane almost under the shadow of the rocks. 

Thus far I had met few people, and none had 
attempted to interfere. At first some had halted to 
gaze after me, and their eyes had lashed me to 
swifter flight; when I ceased running the staring 
ceased, and I passed on unnoticed. But here the 


G O R G O 


54 

street seemed empty from end to end; nothing was 
visible except mud-coloured walls quickly bending 
to an illusive close which fled before me like the 
curtains of a fog, — with tight-shut doors at un- 
certain intervals, and above them little black windows 
in a wavering line. At first there were some signs of 
life: a sudden discharge of slops from a window 
splashed at my feet ; a door flapped in my face, and 
a dog ran out howling, chased by a hollow curse. He 
soon lay down, twisting about like a worm, yelping 
and snapping so that I feared to pass him; others 
I saw lying dead. Plainly this was a district where 
the plague was still raging. As I went on the 
houses grew more and more like tombs, as doubtless 
many were, though the groans that issued from 
others showed they were not yet wholly that. Only 
once did I see a face at a window. The doors were 
no longer shut ; some waved in the wind and others 
were broken in. The light was fast failing, and these 
black holes filled me with terror, but I hurried on, 
until presently I reached a small square with a 
fountain and a pool. Here were more dead dogs, 
stretched in every posture, mostly gathered about 
the pool ; the odour was like that which blows from 
the barathrum. Among them lay two other shapes, 
face downward. My courage broke with a snap; 
I fled in a whirl of terror, and all at once found 
myself in a street where voices were heard, and men 
stood upright and walked about. 

My terror melted and flowed away in a gush of 
tears. I leaned against a Hermes-post, and the tears 


G O R G O 


55 


still dripped from my eyes because I was so tired 
and hungry. But this was a mistake; it drew 
attention to my loneliness. 

“ A boy, Pardocas! yes — a fine boy, Pardocas! 
Why do you cry, little Greek ? ” 


V. 


Peril and Rescue 

T HE voice that sounded in my ear was most 
unpleasant; it came out with a hiss and a 
wriggle, as if a snake had spoken. I looked 
up and saw the hawkish beak and carrion face of 
an old Phoenician. He was bending over me. 
Beside him stood a huge Nubian, bearing a lamp 
which glimmered faintly through a section of horn. 
I turned away from this nightmare without a word. 
But they followed me. 

“ Why does the brave little man stand in the street 
crying? See, Pardocas, it is fine linen, though 
soiled.” 

I felt for my knife, but it was gone. “ I was 
hungry,” I answered, shortly. 

“ The pretty little master has perhaps lost his 
friends. Yes — and perhaps the good merchant 
will find them for him — perhaps he will. But the 
little lad must have food. We will take him with 
us, Pardocas; but first he will tell us his father’s 
name.” 

“ I am the son of Hagnon.” I announced it 
boldly, for I thought they would fear my father. 

56 


G O R G O 


57 

“ Ah ! yes — a knight. I think it will be a ran- 
som, Pardocas, and we shall not need — no, a 
ransom is much the better. Not even the Great 
King will spend gold upon his fancy as a father for 
a son like this. ’Tis the heir of a noble house; he 
speaks true, Pardocas. See, the feet are tender, and 
the face is like their chiselled stone, and the eyes 
flash in thy lamp like the wetted amethyst. Phar- 
nacas would bid high — and when he came from the 
hands of Sceblyas who would know him? Once 
garbed as a slave — a young Lydian, Pardocas, with 
ringed ears and plaited hair and the spirit quenched 
— but the other is better. Oh, yes ! Hagnon is not 
so rich as Nicias — but it is well to be moderate. 
Hagnon shall owe me gratitude. His hand is open, 
but he is shrewd; he is full of suspicions, and his 
hate — it is like a black Erinnys from yonder cavern. 
I would not have Hagnon surmise evil of me. And 
already these prying sycophants — it shall be a 
ransom. Come, boy. We lose time, Pardocas; 
there are revellers abroad. Come, come: the little 
master must go with the kind merchant, who will 
give him food — yes — and take him to his father.” 

I had followed his words with fuller compre- 
hension than he thought, yet stood fast, sick with 
fear, like a fluttering bird while the serpent sways in 
his coil and delays to strike. 

“ Quick, Pardocas ! He will raise a tumult.” 

His yellow claw had fastened upon my arm, and 
my voice was loosed in shrieks. The Nubian reached 
for my throat, but I wrenched away before he could 


G O R G O 


58 

clutch it, and fell over the feet of a stranger who 
stood in the circle of light ; while the gloom beyond 
was crowded with dusky figures, that whitened into 
a ring of faces as they approached the lamp. I 
clasped the knees of my rescuer — for I never 
doubted that he would save me — and looked up. 
What I saw was like a picture that shines from the 
darkness in a dream, — the face of a young Dio- 
nysus, flushed with excess of wine, languid with 
sated pleasures, but in all its features the most beau- 
tiful that I have ever seen mounted on the shoulders 
of lusty manhood. His fingers rested lightly on my 
head and toyed with my hair. His words fell with 
a lazy lisp: 

“ Dog ! Would you kidnap a free-born child in 
the open street? Hence, dock-rat, to your hole by 
the harbour.” 

“ It is my slave. Will you rob me of my slave? ” 
screamed the Syrian. 

“ I will, indeed; and if you insist I’ll record his 
manumission on your hide,” said the young man, 
carelessly. A loud laugh went round the ring. 

“ But I am not a slave,” I cried. “ I am the son 
of Hagnon.” 

The fair face darkened. “ Hagnon ! He was 
with us in Thrace. A brave knight. And this beast 
of Baal — ” 

“ Kill him,” called a voice from behind. “ Yes, 
kill him — he has my name on his tablets,” laughed 
another. Then others, “ Trample him — at least let 
us trample him, Alcibiades.” And the ring of faces 


G O R G O 


59 

swayed and grew smaller. The eyes of the Nubian 
rolled uneasily; the Syrian grovelled. 

“ Had I known it was thou — but I knew thee 
not, noble master — no, nor him — and I have had 
losses. Ah ! spare — an old man — one that has 
paid impositions and liturgies — so many — yes, 
freely paid.” And he gurgled with fear. 

But Alcibiades — for it was he — smote him one 
blow across the face, then flung away his stick. He 
spoke with a sort of hot-blooded indifference. 

“ The banquet waits, and more of this will turn 
my stomach. Begone, or we shall stain our sandals 
foully with thy slime.” 

The Syrian wheeled like a weasel and broke from 
the circle, not without buffets. The Nubian passed 
unstruck; the lamp he carried flung him back in 
monstrous shadow, then gleamed a moment far down 
the street, and vanished. Again I looked up at 
Alcibiades, but his face was dim against the starry 
sky. I groped for his hand, found it, and clung fast. 

“ Well, little suppliant? ” he said. 

The world had been something of a disappoint- 
ment thus far, but my thoughts were moving swiftly. 
“ Did Athena send you to me,” I asked him, “ or are 
you too one of them ? ” 

He laughed like a chime of cymbals and lifted me 
up. “ Do you hear that, flatterers ? ” he cried. “ The 
son of Hagnon has outshot you all ; and he meant no 
flattery either, but spoke with mother’s milk upon 
his tongue.” 


6o 


G O R G O 


“ If Alcibiades would pose as a god,” said one, 
loudly, “ I will set up his image — ” 

“ And pose as a fool. No, quail-catcher, thou 
shalt still worship me with libations — poured down 
thy hot gullet. Child,” he said, “ it is Jove’s truth; 
Athena loves thee. I met my sister the goddess but 
now, by the door of the Parthenon, and she bade me 
seek the little Telemachus who was crying to her. 
So I leaped down and stood beside thee.” 

The rest were choking with laughter. 

“ Do not mind them,” he continued, in a soft, 
sweet drawl that I knew was half affectation. “ They 
are my devotees ; they pray to no other. I grant few 
of their prayers, but permit them to follow me and 
share my pleasures. It is for their sake that I merely 
walk. They are not all divine ; the best of them are 
but fauns and satyrs, and you need not worship 
them.” 

“ No: only thee,” I said, and hugged his neck. 

Again the mirth crowed from their throats; he 
too laughed, but not harshly. 

“ The young god accepts thy love,” he murmured, 
lisping close to my ear, yet so that all could hear him, 
“ and he bears thee to a banquet where thou shalt 
drink nectar from his own cup ; thou shalt sip from 
the very spot his lips have pressed. The rest 
will get nothing but wine. They will hate thee out 
of jealousy, but they shall not harm thee.” 

We soon stopped at a house where lights twinkled 
and all was astir. As soon as I was set down in 
the vestibule I was taken in charge by two servants, 


G O R G O 


61 

who bathed and dressed me with a deft gentleness 
to which I had long been unaccustomed. Then they 
wreathed my head and my breast with garlands, and 
so led me to the banquet-hall. The room was unlike 
any in my father’s house, — a square corridor, the 
centre open to the sky, with a line of columns wound 
with flowers. Around this ran long tables, set with 
silver plate and strange but savoury viands, bordered 
with couches on which at least a score of guests 
were reclining, all richly robed and with garlands like 
my own. They turned toward me as I entered and 
broke out with loud applause, so that I cast down my 
eyes, more abashed than I ever had felt before. But 
the servant led me straight to Alcibiades and set me 
beside him on the couch; whereat there was more 
applause and much jesting, especially when I looked 
up shyly at my companion and could scarcely with- 
draw my gaze. But indeed I was not the only one, 
th&t night, who seemed willing to believe that the 
pure ichor of heaven flowed in his veins. He him- 
self behaved as if he partly believed it, but did not 
care. The rest were ready to drag all the gods from 
their pedestals to flatter him. 

“ Our Alcibiades cannot justly claim his inherit- 
ance,” said one, “ since his true father is a citizen of 
Olympus.” 

“ You cannot deny that Dionysus is a good 
Athenian,” he retorted, “ since he sits with the mag- 
istrates in the theatre and gathers in taxes like old 
Father Demus. But give us no more of these 
choice selections from the sophists.” 


6 2 


G O R G O 


“ Let him but mount the bema and Father Demus 
will become his slave,” said another, “ for the face 
of Alcibiades is more eloquent than the tongue of 
Pericles.” 

“ Far more eloquent at present,” he assented, “ for 
the tongue of Pericles is gagged with Charon’s obol.” 

I could not help starting at the name of Pericles, 
and he noted it. “ Perhaps,” he said, “ you do not 
love Pericles overmuch, little aristocrat. But speak 
no ill of him now. He is my kinsman; and he is 
dead. He could not persuade the plague.” 

“ And Cleon — is he dead too ? ” I asked, eagerly. 

“Nay: one plague does not eat another.” 

“ I am glad,” I cried; for in spite of my grand- 
father’s anger I still thought kindly of Cleon. “ He 
is big and strong, and makes them do as he says. 
He too lifted me in his arms and would not let them 
hurt me.” 

The young man’s look was like the taste of bitter 
honey. 

“ Am I, then, yoked with Cleon? I had thought 
to lead him with a silver chain — and this rosy 
garland links us ! ” 

“ Fling it away, Alcibiades, if it smells of the 
tan-yard,” suggested one who lay near. “ All gar- 
dens bloom for thee.” 

“ Thy face blooms redly, Antipholus,” he an- 
swered, quickly, “ but if I pluck anything there it 
will be thy nose. There are many gardens — that is 
true enough ; but, they are mostly watered with old 


G O R G O 63 

Chian and smell of stale vintage. My little gar- 
land smells of dew.” 

1 had climbed up through the roses on his breast, 
and put my arms about his neck. He pressed my 
face against his cheek. “ I am Cleon’s debtor,” he 
said. “ I will send him silver, — though he will 
wonder, and fancy that I fear him.” 

“ My father sent him the silver,” I explained. 

“ Thy father is wiser than a Magian ; he knows 
the right incantation. But truly, all the gods of 
Athens love thee, son oT Hagnon. For Cleon is one 
of them. Pan, let us call him ; for his feet are 
cloven, and he goes about roaring and breeds ter- 
rors. But, faugh ! wash Cleon from your tongue 
with this, and I will be your taster.” 

He made me drink from a golden cup — wine 
mingled with honey, I suppose, for it was very sweet. 
I was already gorged with rich food, and my eyes 
were thirsty for sleep. I blinked upon his shoulder 
and saw only flashes of glowing faces and lifted 
goblets, soon slipping down among the crushed 
roses. I struggled to keep awake, but the noise of 
their laughing ebbed and swelled as if a wind 
brought it from far; and the same wind presently 
wafted me through the land of shadows, and laid my 
dreaming spirit on my mother’s knee. 


VI. 


A New Friend in Need 

I STARTED up from the pillow of my wilted 
wreath with a sudden sense that I was alone. 
The caressing phantom of my dream was gone; 
the revellers too were gone; the hall was empty. 
From its central opening the sheen of dawn melted 
down into the gloom as the white flow of a mountain 
stream merges in a turbid lake, and the tables lay 
beneath in pale confusion, like the field of a night- 
battle dim in the morning mist, — stained, too, with 
red splashes and crimson streaks of wine, that 
drained in a gory drip from the edges. Evidently 
some such fancy had appealed to my companions 
also, for they had piled before me a trophy of cups, 
twined with limp remnants of garlands. No doubt 
they had ended their carousal by breaking from the 
house on some drunken frolic such as Alcibiades 
often led, — thinking, if they thought at all, to find 
me still sleeping on their return. But this is retro- 
spect; I understood nothing of it then, and at first 
felt quite abandoned. Yet I soon bethought me that 
it was thus that the messengers of the gods came and 
went always ; for the more clearly I remembered all 
64 


G O R G O 


65 

that had happened, the more certain I felt that Alci- 
biades was something more than human. His face 
danced before my eyes like after-glimpses of the 
sun. Of course he would come to me again if I 
needed him; meanwhile it was for me to show 
courage and pursue my quest. 

I slid to the floor and tiptoed across its cold 
marble, my bare feet pressing scattered fragments 
of the feast and broken flowers. I brushed by a 
curtain and groped along black passages, until at 
last I emerged in the vestibule, where the outer door 
stood ajar to the growing day. Close beside it sat 
a porter on a stool, leaning his back against the 
wall ; he was nodding heavily, but I remembered 
Trogon and feared to pass. I stood pondering, then 
advanced quickly and slapped his cheek. 

“ Wake up,” I cried. “ Do you sleep at the open 
door while thieves are taking the master’s silver? ” 
His head flopped up with a jerk and struck the wall; 
I wrenched at his ear. “ Thieves ! ” I repeated. 
“ Within ! Do you not hear ? ” 

He stared dully at the garland on my breast. 
“ They are gone forth,” he said, pushing the door 
a little wider. “ Turn left, if you would follow.” 
And his eyelids drooped again. I did not stay to 
insist upon the thieves, but edged past him and ran 
out, flinging the garland from my shoulder on the 
threshold. 

The sun was not yet risen ; but Athena stood clear 
on her huge pedestal of shadow, with all her pano- 
ply of bronze agleam in the rosy morning. I knew 


66 


G O R G O 


that her dusky face was toward the sea, and by that 
guided my steps. The street was already alive with 
hurrying artisans, and with these I drifted to the 
market, where the booths were just opening and the 
chatter of bargaining had begun. Thence the stream 
was against me for a time ; but as soon as I emerged 
from between the hills, the towers of the wall came 
in view, and I presently stood in the open gateway 
leading to Piraeus. Here a guard stopped me, drop- 
ping his spear across my path. 

“ Whither, child?” 

“ To Piraeus, to meet my father,” I told him. 

“ Who is your father ? ” 

“ They call him — they call him Hermon,” I 
answered; for I had discovered that it is not per- 
mitted to a runaway always to speak the truth. 

A man with an empty sack across his shoulder spat 
an obol from his mouth into his hand. “ There is 
a Hermon who lives near the little harbour,” he said, 
— “ a rich metic. Let the lad go to his father.” 

“ My father is a citizen,” I could not help explain- 
ing. “ He has been fighting in Thrace.” 

“ Three triremes came in yesterday,” said the sol- 
dier, “ and more are expected to-day. Well, it is a 
common name. But why are you alone? ” 

“ I lost my slave in the market. But I know the 
way.” 

He lifted his spear, and I passed on, well pleased 
with myself. The long channel between the walls 
that stretched seaward lay right before me now, nar- 
rowing almost to a point in the distance. I had not 


G O R G O 


67 

realised that it was so far, nor that the passage 
was so wide; it was a long bow-shot from wall to 
wall. The swarms of people that I so well remem- 
bered had disappeared, and though many of the 
sheds set up to shelter them were still standing in 
crowded rows, they seemed tenantless. Indeed, 
when I crept behind one of them as a file of hoplites 
clanked by toward the city, I found the chinks so 
wide that I was scarcely hidden. I met no further 
hindrance, but my feet grew very sore before I 
reached the end, and my back burned and my throat 
was aglow with thirst; for the sun glared almost 
straight along the track, with hardly a shadow. 

I entered the streets of Piraeus unchallenged ; and 
here the throng was such as I remembered when my 
father had borne me through the press, — at the 
thought of which I could not squeeze back my tears, 
for now I was jostled about so roughly that I became 
frightened, fearing the crush among the carts. Then 
it came into my breast that I might find the house 
where I had once been sheltered ; and the recollec- 
tion of the food I had eaten there filled my stomach 
with cravings. So, as the crowd opened, I ran on, 
looking at the houses, in consequence of which I 
was thrown down in front of a train of wagons and 
barely escaped by crawling into a doorway, where 
my heart began to come up in great sobs, for the 
world was going wrong again, and Athena and all 
the rest had forgotten me. 

A woman came quickly toward me — to thrust me 
out, I supposed, for that was the way with people. 


68 


G O R G O 


Her face was ugly enough — drawn and bony, pitted 
with scars — her dress no better than a slave’s ; but 
instead of driving me away she spoke kindly and 
gave me water. 

“ Are you not hungry, too, little one? ” she asked. 

I was almost afraid to say it, for I thought of the 
Syrian; but I did say it, and she brought me a 
cake of barley bread. 

“ My father will pay you,” I said, when I had 
the dry disk half-eaten. “ I will tell him to send you 
a wagonload.” For I saw that she was very poor. 

“ The gods will repay,” she answered, simply. 
“ Jove bids us help those he sends to us. And I 
do so love little children.” 

She spoke no more about that ; but I looked at the 
plague scars on her face and understood, even then. 

I plunged into the street with new courage, and 
followed the line of the northern wall down to the 
sea. The harbour was full of bobbing corn-ships, 
round as the husk of a nut, and many were moored 
to the wharf, unlading. All around me were men 
in odd costumes, many jabbering words that did not 
sound like Greek. Some wore only a clout, and were 
sweating under heavy baskets, moving in circling 
streams between the ships and the waiting wagons ; 
others, in motley groups, were obviously debating 
prices, with high-pitched voices and excited gestures. 
Among them passed a few officials bearing staves; 
but altogether I had never seen any such concourse 
of barbarians, and I drew off in some alarm to the 
higher ground behind. Thence, looking across to 


G O R G O 


69 

the part called the Cup, I could see the waves break- 
ing in foam against the massive piers of the ship- 
houses, near which a sharp-nosed war-ship lay roll- 
ing on the swell, its long side bristling like a fish- 
bone with a triple tier of lifted oars. Other triremes 
were just entering the harbour, creeping over the 
water with all their oars astir like the wriggling 
legs of a centipede. I decided at once that I would 
go to Thrace in a trireme, though I saw that the 
“ twenty comrades ” I had thus far counted on 
would not be enough. More than a hundred would 
be needed ; but whatever the number, Athena — or 
Alcibiades — could readily procure them for me. 
After a little I would go over to the ship-houses 
and see what could be done, but first I would rest 
awhile if I could find shade. So I stole up a close 
among the warehouses, and curled down in a corner. 
I did not know that I was leaning against a slave- 
pen. 

I must have slept until late in the afternoon. I 
woke with a creeping horror that bound me fast. A 
cold claw was on my throat. A hissing whisper 
dripped like poison in my ear. 

“ Yes — it is the little master — the son of Hag- 
non. He has come back to us, Pardocas.” 

His clutch loosened a bit, and I gasped — “ Let 
me go ! Let me go, man, or they will kill you. Oh, 
let me alone! I am going to Thrace. My father 
is there and he will give you money.” 

“ Yes — Hagnon would give gold — much gold. 
We will see.” He rubbed a purple welt that seamed 


7o 


G O R G O 


his yellow cheek. “ Yes, the little Greek shall go 
over the sea — as he wishes. We will send him 
in a ship, Pardocas — in a beautiful round ship, with 
sails.” He tightened his grip, chuckling through 
his nose, as a vulture snuffles over a carcass. “ Is 
not the old merchant kind? And the little Greek’s 
friends would have made mire of his body — but he 
forgets all that — yes — forgets. Take him up 
gently, Pardocas, and wind thy mantle close about 
his face, lest he use his voice without judgment. It 
is not good to cry loudly so near the sea; I have 
known it to cause spitting of blood, Pardocas.” 

As he turned toward the Nubian his fingers again 
relaxed, and my choked agony burst forth in a 
shriek : “ Alcibiades ! Alcibiades ! ! ” 

The hard gripe of his talons shut on my wind- 
pipe. “ See, Pardocas : already the little fool cries 
to that libertine — may his ashes rest in the maw 
of Moloch!” 

“ I am not, perhaps, wise in the wisdom of 
Moloch; but consider, Syrian, whether it is not 
more likely that this favour is reserved for his wor- 
shippers.” 

These unexpected words, although uttered in a 
perfectly even tone, fell like a flight of arrows shot 
from ambush. The stooping Nubian sprang back; 
the Syrian writhed on my body and dug his talons 
deeper, but as he twisted his head a strong arm 
reached out and dragged him from my throat. I 
could see no more, for I lay face upward and half- 
blinded. 


G O R G O 


7 1 

“ The gods are indeed long-suffering,” the quiet 
voice continued, “ and they wait till the cup is full ; 
but it is not permitted you, Syrian, to take this boy.” 

“ Slay him, Pardocas,” hissed the broken snake. 

A strange, kind, satyr-like face bent over me, and 
I was lifted up; I could scarcely stand, but clung in 
the folds of the stranger’s coarse tunic. I saw the 
Nubian raise a crooked knife that gleamed with the 
menace of murder, but the singular being who stood 
beneath its edge merely looked at him, showing no 
concern. 

“ Is it not better,” he said, “ to live and let others 
live, than to kill and die under the hands of the 
tormentors? I try to speak within the compass of 
your understanding, Nubian.” 

The slave’s arm dropped. “ The man have devil 
— it is evil eye,” he cried, and slunk back. 

“ Indeed, it is better thus,” the calm, speculative 
voice went on. “ The gods, who to you and to this 
poor Nubian seem but evil spirits, have again been 
kind to you, Syrian. But I will speak in words less 
foreign to your understanding. There are some not 
far distant who love me well, as I know ; but they 
are young and not always mindful of counsel. 
Among them is that Alcibiades of whom the child 
but now made mention, who will have it that I 
saved his life in battle; another is a certain Chsere- 
phon who is very headstrong. Had you harmed me 
I fear they would not have spared you, Syrian.” 

“Yes — and you did not call? What a man is 
this ! ” cried the Syrian in a tone of sheer disbelief. 


G O R G O 


72 

Yet his jaw sunk, for there was something unac- 
countably convincing in the stranger’s utterance. 

“ The tongue is a quick weapon, nimbler than the 
knife,” he answered. “ One good shout, I think, 
would have outrun the stroke.” 

He led me past them. “ Strike ! ” whispered the 
master; but the slave was cowed. Yet still the 
Syrian rallied and called after us. 

“ Who are you that take from me my boy — my 
pretty slave? There are courts — yes, courts.” 

My conductor turned. “ There are courts, but 
you will not invoke them, Syrian, — nor shall I. 
The reason of this, I fear, will be too hard for you ; 
but I will tell it. You are, I believe, of all reptiles 
the vilest; but since the gods, for your good, have 
thwarted you, and little harm is done, to the gods 
I leave you. It would be an easy thing to bring you 
to punishment, here in the street or before the 
courts, but not otherwise than by death. I would not 
have that stain upon my soul. But if I should say 
that I would sooner die than cause the death of 
another — unless it were in open battle for my 
country — I should speak words without meaning 
to the ear of a Syrian. Now go ! for you stand on 
the razor’s edge of peril.” 

Yet even this was not enough. The rabid creature 
followed slowly almost to the corner of the alley, — 
then fled with such a chattering of the teeth that 
I laughed aloud with sudden relief that he was gone. 
But I laughed foolishly, like a woman, and could not 
stop; and in the midst of it came a sobbing that 


G O R G O 


73 

hurt my swollen throat, and my legs began to wabble. 
And the man, seeing my plight, took me up in his 
arms and spoke as softly as my mother when she 
whispered to comfort me. 

A little way off in the open stood a group of 
young men, so busy with talk that at first they did 
not see us. 

“ That daemon of his has led him on an empty 
chase,” one was saying. “ It is a folly — his only 
weakness.” 

“ Whenever he does anything quite out of reason 
— such as bidding us wait here by the wharves — 
it is the daemon,” said another. 

“ You may say what you choose,” replied still an- 
other, “ I would not go against its warnings for a 
thousand drachmas. I have had experience.” 

“ I care little for warnings of any sort,” drawled 
a languid voice. “ Divine or human, it is all one 
to me. But by the celestial gods, I like to hear him 
talk. I wouldn’t live as he does for a palace in 
heaven, but when I listen I think I am going to. 
He is beyond all the sophists and all the orators. 
Good Uncle Pericles was a fool to him. He does 
look like Hephaestus in a leather apron, but he can 
talk like Phoebus Apollo. I tell you, I love the 
man,” he ended, laughing. 

“ Here he comes,” they shouted, “ and he heard 
you, too, Alcibiades.” 

“ I make no secret of my love,” said the young 
man, striding forward. “But what is this? Have 
I a rival? Has he too taken a baby to his heart? 


G O R G O 


74 

Gods of Olympus, it is the garland of my feast, 
my little runaway, the son of Hagnon ! ” 

He demanded an explanation, which was briefly 
given. “ And you too saved that jackal from the 
dance of sandals ! ” he cried. “ A curse upon my 
dainty stomach and thy dainty conscience; these 
swine grow wanton by our squeamishness. But 
we shall yet send the foul beast to lie with the mud- 
eaters of Styx. And now give me the boy. My 
claim stands first.” 

“ Hagnon’s claim stands first,” replied the other. 
“ Between you and me the boy himself shall decide/’ 
“ Come, little garland,” cried Alcibiades, holding 
out his arms. “ Come again to the banquet, little 
Telemachus, and to-morrow you shall have ships 
and chariots if you so desire.” 

I looked in his beautiful face, and its smile was 
very sweet. Then I looked up at that other. The 
mouth was thick-lipped and wide; the nose was 
flat, and turned upward with flaring nostrils; the 
great gray eyes protruded as if they would look 
sidewise; the whole face was grotesque. But I 
could not hesitate; I clasped his neck and put my 
lips against his cheek as if he had been my father. 
“ I will stay with you,” I said. 

Then a shout of mirth went up. “ He has chosen 
Socrates,” they cried. “ And you, Alcibiades, got 
no kisses with all your godship.” 

The bright face half frowned, but only for a 
moment. “ I own that I am beaten,” he said, “ but 
to yield to Socrates in a contest of persuasion is 


G O R G O 


75 


no shame to my godhead. That he is also a stout 
spearman I have reason to know, yet with brass 
I might vanquish him, — for he, alas ! is mortal. 
But when the battle is fought with the tongue his 
darts are winged words that sing in men’s ears and 
strike through every shield and never miss the 
heart; and all know that in such a conflict neither 
men nor gods can stand before Socrates.” 

And I wondered at this, for it did not seem to 
me that the man had spoken much, nor with any 
cunning; and if they had asked me then I should 
have said that Alcibiades was by far the better 
talker, but not nearly so strong. 


VII. 


A Walk with Socrates 

A T least/’ Alcibiades pleaded, “ come with 
us to the banquet, Socrates. See, the gar- 
land is already on your breast; come, just 
as you are.” 

Then I noticed that his feet were bare, and his 
one garment hung about him like a sack, travel- 
stained at that. 

“ Come, Socrates,” the wheedling voice persisted, 
more earnest than I had ever heard it, “ you have 
shared my tent and you shall share my feast. What 
need of a formal invitation? You have dragged 
me often from my wine; I will drag you to it now. 
Would you have me kidnap you, as I did Aga- 
tharcus, the painter? We go to the house of Hip- 
ponicus just up the hill — the old money-bag whose 
face I slapped on a wager, who in sheer gratitude 
has offered me his daughter to wife, with ten talents 
dowry. She is really good — would you not advise 
me to take her, Socrates, in spite of the dowry ? And 
he has a new sophist, fresh imported to teach all the 
parts of wisdom to his young Callias — who needs 
it. Oh, come! The sophist will be such sport! He 
76 


G O R G O 


77 

will instruct you, Socrates; he teaches virtue and 
the art of speaking. And he will think that you 
fear him if you stay away.” 

“ Do you think that there is feasting in the house 
of Hagnon to-night ? ” said the other, gravely. 

“ Let Hagnon wait. His proud stomach will be 
the better for it.” 

“ We will try that medicine first on him who pre- 
scribes it,” he retorted. “ Peace, Alcibiades ; it 
is my custom to do what I think is right. Go, and 
waste no words in further urging.” 

Then I saw plainly that somehow this barefoot 
man was greater than Alcibiades; for the young 
god obeyed him like a child. 

“ Where are you taking me? ” I asked, when we 
were alone. “ Will you go with me in a ship to 
Thrace? ” 

“ Do you not remember,” he said, “ that the son 
of Odysseus did not find his father at Pylos nor at 
Sparta, but afterward found him in his own home? ” 

“ And shall I find my father at home? ” I asked, 
with a leaping heart. 

“ Whether we shall find him there to-night,” he 
said, “ I cannot be sure; but it seems not unlikely, 
for he landed to-day from the same ship on which I 
came. Good fortune,” he continued, “ is often like 
the little birds, that come hopping to the very feet 
of one who sits still and waits, but fly away from 
those who chase after them. You would have gone 
much astray had you sailed for Thrace. Athena is 
wise. Did you think she had forgotten you ? ” 


G O R G O 


78 

“ She sent me you,” I said. 

“ Yes, she sent me to you,” he answered, and was 
silent. 

“ But how can we know? ” I asked him, after a 
time. “ For one should not always just sit still and 
wait.” 

He drew me very close upon his shoulder. “ Do 
you not always know what is right? Think care- 
fully, little one; do you not always know? ” 

I pondered a long while. “ Yes,” I answered, “ I 
do know, when I stop to remember ; but how do I 
know ? ” 

“ You have said it. You remember.” 

“ But when did I learn ? ” I cried, in astonish- 
ment. 

He paused, holding me out at arm’s length and 
looking in my face. “ It is hard to explain,” he 
said. “ It is almost too hard for a child to under- 
stand ; it is often too hard for grown men. But 
I will do what I can to make it plain to you.” 

We were now between the Long Walls, and the 
low sun cast before us far-streaming shadows and 
tinted the battlements of the distant city. 

“ Do you see those walls ? ” he said. “ They 
stretch far ; but you saw that they had a beginning, 
and you know that they have an end. For all things 
that have a beginning have an end. But that which 
has no beginning can have no end. Can you think 
otherwise ? ” 

“ But is there anything like that ? ” I cried. 

“ You know the meaning of what men call 


G O R G O 


79 

4 time/ ” he said. “ Can you think that it had any 
beginning? or that it will ever have an end? ” 

“No; it goes on always. But time — it isn’t 
anything at all,” I persisted. 

“Well,” he said, “you, at least, are something; 
for you can think and know. But can you remember 
when first you began to be? ” 

“ No; I cannot remember.” 

“ Perhaps, then, there is something within you 
that had no beginning. And if that is so, it has had 
plenty of time to learn. Some think,” he said, “ that 
what we call learning is really only remembering. 
Already you have much to remember, little son of 
Hagnon.” 

“ Yes,” I cried, harking back, “ and if it had no 
beginning it hasn’t any end either; for you said so. 
My mother thought that; but she did not explain, 
as you do.” 

“ And if there is something within us that was 
not born and can never die, but is like time itself, 
can this be anything else than that part of us which 
thinks and knows, which men call the soul ? ” 

“ It must be that,” I said ; “ for they put the 
rest in the ground or burn it up. I never understood 
about the soul before.” 

“ And now,” said he, “ which part do you think 
is best worth caring for, — that part which we cast 
away like a useless garment when it is torn by vio- 
lence or grows old and worn, or that part which 
lives always ? v 


8o 


G O R G O 


“ It is foolish to ask me that ; o>f course it is the 
part that doesn’t die,” I answered. 

“ I am glad,” said he, “ that you think this a 
foolish question. Yet there are many who do not 
understand even this; for just as some care only 
for clothes, some care only for their bodies. And 
that, perhaps, is why people do not remember all 
at once, but very slowly and not clearly, just as 
on£ would see things through a thick veil, such as 
the women sometimes wear before men. It is only 
when this veil, which is our flesh, is woven very 
light and fine, or when it has grown old and is 
worn very thin, that we can see anything through 
it plainly ; and even then all that we see looks misty 
and does not seem real.” 

“ Yes, but the women can peep over,” I explained. 

“ And we, too, doubtless, can peep over some- 
times,” he answered, smiling. “ It is better then, as 
you think, and I certainly think so, to seek the things 
that are good for the soul, which is your very self, 
than to seek what seems good to the body, which 
we keep only for a little while? ” 

“ And that is why you wear no shoes ! ” I cried. 

“ What need have I of shoes? ” he said. 

Again I pondered. “ What are the things that 
are good for the soul ? ” I asked him. 

“ There is but one thing that is good for the soul,” 
he said. “ Men call it virtue. But it is only always 
doing what is right.” 

There was a long silence after that. At last I 
spoke again. “ But the gods,” I said — “ they do 


G O R G O 


8 1 


not die at all. And men die; at least, a part of 
them dies. And I do not understand about those 
things that have no beginning and do not come to 
any end. I never saw anything like that. Tell me 
more about that.” 

He set me down in the ruddy twilight and drew 
a little circle in the dust. “ What is that?” he 
asked me. 

“ It is the letter the Syracusan called O,” I said. 
“ And it really has no beginning and no end,” I 
cried, clapping my hands. “ I remember now. And 
are our souls like that ? ” 

“ I sometimes think so,” he said. 

“ But the gods — what are they like ? and why do 
they not die, like men ? ” 

He looked about and picked up a dart that had 
fallen from a wagon. This he took by the end, and 
swinging on his heel traced with the point a larger 
circle, wide around the little one. Then he measured 
a handbreadth on each. “ See,” he said, “ on the 
little circle even this short path is much bent, while 
on the larger it is almost straight.” 

“ Yes,” I cried, breathlessly; for it seemed won- 
derful, all the things that he knew. 

“ And if the circle were larger yet, the line that 
makes it what it is would be still straighten” 

“ Yes,” I answered again. 

“ And if it were made as great as the universe, 
which the gods alone can compass even in thought, 
then its path would be altogether straight in every 
part, running on forever and never swerving or 


82 


G O R G O 


turning back, like the flight of time. Such is the 
life of the immortals; but the lives of men move in 
little circles.” 

I drew a long breath, but made no answer. For 
this was greater than all that my mother had told 
me of. I could not even question him further, 
though all was vague and dim within me. Again he 
lifted me up and went on; and when we had gone 
a long way, and it was now quite dark, hugging his 
neck more closely, “ Tell me who you are? ” I said. 

“ You heard them speak my name,” he answered. 
“ And it may be that you have heard before of a 
certain Socrates, about whom some say foolish 
things. But what they say is not true, — neither 
that I am very wise nor that I am more foolish than 
others.” 

“ No,” I answered, “ I never heard anything about 
you till to-day. I did not mean what is your name, 
but what is it that you do.” 

“ I try to find out about the truth,” he said. 

“ And is that all you do ? ” 

“ I try always to do what I think is right. Noth- 
ing else — unless it be something else to go about 
asking questions. I know that many dislike me, 
because I show them that they are believing lies and 
telling lies to others ; but I know also that the gods 
have commanded me to live just as I do.” 

“ The gods — those gods — they speak to you, 
Socrates ? ” I asked, with a greater awe than I had 
ever known. 

“ They speak to me,” he repeated, bowing his 


G O R G O 


83 

head so that his cheek touched mine, “ and I have 
never willingly disobeyed that voice, nor ever shall. 
It would come to others if they would listen.” 

“ It is so strange,” I said, presently, “ that you 
are not beautiful, like Alcibiades. Perhaps it is 
only your clothes. My father is rich, and he shall 
give you clothes and money.” 

“ I have no use for thy father’s money, son of 
Hagnon,” he answered, sharply. And then he spoke 
softly, as if he were sorry for that one little harsh- 
ness. “ I take money from no one; yet the thought 
in your heart was kind, and for that I thank you. 
But perhaps I am richer than you suppose — richer 
even than your father. For he, I think, wants many 
things, and I want nothing.” 

“ Do you mean,” I asked, “ that those are the 
richest who do not need anything?” 

“ Yes, that is exactly what I mean,” he answered. 
“ And as to my not taking money — not to speak of 
any other reasons now, though there are other rea- 
sons — it does not seem to me to be right for one 
who is richer to take from those who are poorer.” 

I pondered over this; for to me these were new 
ideas, and I had never seen anybody, unless it were 
my mother, who did not seem to care for money. 
Even those who gave it away in great purses, like 
my father, and those who flung it about and pre- 
tended not to care, like Alcibiades, did care and 
set great store by it ; that I saw clearly enough. 
But this man did not care for it at all. Then my 
thoughts went back to those still stranger things that 


G O R G O 


84 

he had said about the soul. That was the reason 
of his not caring, — he cared only for the soul, be- 
cause that was the only thing that lasted. All the 
rest was to him like the things that one leaves for 
the slaves to use. 

“ Tell me,” I broke out, suddenly, “ what is it 
that really happens when one dies ? ” 

“ I do not know,” he said. And this shocked me, 
for I had thought that of course he would know all 
about it. “ But I do know this,” he went on, “ that 
no harm can ever come to any soul that always does 
what is right.” 

But I was sceptical now. “ How can you know 
that,” I demanded, “ when you do not know what 
happens ? ” 

“ Have you ever thought why it is,” he asked, 
“ that some things are right and other things 
wrong ? ” 

I had not, but I thought hard now. “ It is right,” 
I said, “ when we do what the gods want us to.” 

“ And if the gods should want us to do anything 
that is wrong, or if they should do anything wrong 
themselves I do not say that they could — but 
would that make it right? ” 

“No!” I cried; for I thought bitterly of my 
mother, and how we had prayed for her in vain. 

“ Then right and wrong are something mightier 
than Jove himself.” 

“ Yes,” I answered. Again my spirit was humble, 
and > now I knew why Alcibiades had spoken as he 
did. “ Tell me about it, Socrates.” 


G O R G O 


85 

“ I will tell you, then, how it seems to me. To 
do right is to do what is truly wise. To do wrong 
is to make a mistake, — wilfully, perhaps, but that 
is because we think that we are truly wise when we 
are not. The gods alone are truly wise in every- 
thing, and that is why only the gods make no mis- 
takes and never do wrong. If I say anything that 
you do not think is so, you must stop me.” 

“ Don’t stop,” I said. 

“ Well, then, could any real harm come to a soul 
that is truly wise, and always does what is for the 
best and never makes mistakes — if that were pos- 
sible? And it is possible, if we do not forget.” He 
paused, but I did not speak. “ And is not this the 
same as saying that nothing can ever harm the soul 
of one who does right and never does wrong, what- 
ever may happen, now or hereafter? I do not think 
that we need to know just what it is that happens, 
little son of Hagnon.” 

“ But there are such wicked men,” I cried, “ and 
if they catch you it isn’t any use to be good.” 

“ To be wicked,” he said, “ is the greatest of all 
mistakes. It is as if a general should think that all 
his friends were enemies, and all his enemies friends. 
A man who is wicked, like the Syrian, is sure to do 
terrible harm to himself ; but he cannot harm any 
other, not even a child, like you, unless he is able to 
make him also wicked. And that he cannot do unless 
you help him; for it is not wrong to suffer what 
we cannot help, and no such thing ever really harms 


86 G O R G O 

us. No, little one, the wicked cannot hurt the 
good.” 

“ But they do hurt them,” I insisted. 

“ Let us be sure that we understand each other,” 
he said. “ I do not speak altogether of what most 
people call harm and talk about as good and evil, 
not stopping to remember, but of what is really so. 
I know that the Syrian thought that he could harm 
us and meant to do it, and that you thought the same 
thing and feared him greatly; but you were both 
mistaken. In what way could he have hurt you? ” 

“ He hurt my throat ; and he might have killed 
me.” 

“ If he had run a knife through your tunic, would 
that have hurt your body? ” 

“ No, not if it was just the cloth that he cut.” 

“ And even if he had cut the flesh and run a sharp 
knife right through the body, could he have hurt 
that part of you which is yourself, and does not die, 
and is only harmed by doing wrong ? No, little one : 
it is very terrible to think about, but the worst that 
he could do, without your help, would be to tear or 
to pluck away its garment from the soul.” 

“ And that is why you were not afraid when the 
black man lifted up his knife?” 

“ That is why,” he answered. 

We were passing now near the place where Alci- 
biades had rescued me. There was only the light 
of the stars, but I remembered the very stone against 
which I had leaned crying. 

“ Why did you not let them kill the Syrian ? ” 


G O R G O 87 

I burst forth. “ Oh, I wish they had killed him ! 
And Alcibiades — he let him go, tool ” 

“ Even Alcibiades does not always forget,’’ he 
said. “ Do you think it is doing right to kill people? 
Tell me just what you really think, son of Hag- 
non.” 

“ He ought to be killed,” I cried, hotly. “ Oh, 
I wish they had trampled on him till he was spattered 
about like the grapes when they make them into 
wine! ” And I gritted my teeth in sheer fury at the 
thought of him. 

“ It is true that he deserves punishment,” said 
Socrates, so soberly that my pulses fell a little. “ Do 
you think that he will not be punished? Is it not 
a frightful punishment, even now, to be just as he 
is, with that part of him that cannot die ruined 
and full of a dreadful poison? Yet if that does not 
seem to you to be enough, you need not fear lest 
that be all. Wrong always brings punishment — 
else it would not be wrong. That is the difference 
between things that are really wrong, and those 
things that many think are wrong which are not.” 

“ He ought to be killed,” I repeated ; and the 
words still had a good relish. 

“ Men sometimes make blunders in their killing,” 
he said ; “ and these, I fear, are very sad mistakes, 
especially for those who make them. From exile, 
if it is found to be unjust, a man may be recalled; 
but when the soul is driven out it cannot be called 
back. Are you sure, little boy, that you are so wise 
as to know always just who ought to be killed? and 


88 


G O R G O 


how he should be killed, and by whom, and when? 
I myself should fear to say.” 

“ He ought to be killed,” I said again, rolling the 
words on my tongue, but the flavour was not so 
good. And I went on: “You have killed men, 
haven’t you — in battle, Socrates ? ” 

“ I obey the laws of my country. Yes, and I 
would have killed the Syrian to prevent him from 
killing you — or bearing you away, which would 
have been worse — but not otherwise. And if I 
should say to you, little one, as I said to him, that it 
is better to die than to kill another, would you too 
think it foolish, as he did ? Would you be so much 
like him ? ” 

The flavour was all gone now, but I still per- 
sisted : “ He ought to be killed.” 

Then Socrates breathed so wearily that I thought 
he must be tired with carrying me so far; but he 
did not set me down. 

“ Little son of Hagnon,” he said, “ I see that we 
cannot agree in this; but you are only like all 
the rest.” He continued, but I felt that it was no 
longer to me that he was speaking : “ Many times 
and in many places have I said this thing with all 
the skill I knew — that it is never right to do 
wrong, not even to those who do wrong to us — but 
they are all like this little child; no one of them 
ever understood. From words I know well that 
none will ever learn it; and even if one should 
proclaim this truth by deeds, and give up his own 
life before them to those who had wronged him, 


G O R G O 


89 

and should go to his death in perfect patience, seek- 
ing only to show them the way, still how few would 
understand ! In all Athens, I think, not one, — not 
my dear, slow-minded CritO', who loves me better 
than himself, nor this keen-witted, perilous Alci- 
biades, who at least loves my words, nor any other 
of them all; and those who knew me best would 
be most eager to avenge me! ” He sighed. “ To 
this, no doubt, it will come, at last; and perhaps, 
when the appointed time is reached, those hours of 
death will yet speak more truth to the souls of men 
than all these days and years of ceaseless question- 
ing, — to the gods I commit it. And meanwhile, not 
without my joy, I follow the path that lies before 
my feet, and obey the mandate of the god, and heed 
the voice that ever warns and guides me through all 
the windings of the way up to the gate of death.” 

“ Why do you talk like that, Socrates ? ” I 
breathed it in his ear in that meek whisper which is 
nearest silence; for I wanted to get close to him 
again. 

“ I have reason to fear,” said he, “ that those who, 
like Hagnon’s son, are wise in this wisdom of kill- 
ing, will some day decide that I too ought to be 
killed, and will thereupon issue instructions to the 
Eleven to do what is needful for putting to silence a 
troublesome tongue. And the Eleven will proceed 
in the usual manner.” 

“ That would be dreadful, Socrates,” I cried, al- 
most sobbing. “ You shall not say it — ” and I 
laid my hand across his lips. “ But you are not in 


G O R G O 


90 

earnest, Socrates ; you are laughing. And you know 
what I meant. It is only people like the Syrian that 
ought to be killed.” And in this I did not yield, not 
even to him, but kept saying it over and over in my 
heart, that the Syrian ought to be killed. 

At length, as we passed through the darkness of 
the narrow lanes, with only a streak of black sky 
sprinkled with stars above us, I again opened my 
lips. 

“ The gods kill people,” I said. 

“ Do you know that the gods kill people, little 
sophist? or do you just say it, not knowing at all? ” 

“ I am not a sophist,” I answered, thinking of the 
Syracusan. “ But they sent the plague.” 

“ Do you really know that they sent the plague? 
If you should thrust your hand among the red coals, 
would you say that the gods had burned you? ” I 
was silent. “ I think it would be more just,” said 
he, “ to say that Themistocles sent the plague, for 
if we had not had so many ships the plague would 
not have come to us; or Pericles, for if the city 
had not been so crowded with people by the war 
it would not have brought such desolation. But 
if the gods do kill, they at least make no mistakes.” 

“ But they do make mistakes,” I cried. “ They let 
my mother die, when they ought to have saved her. 
And we all prayed so hard; and she was good.” 

“ Some might say,” he began — but stopped. “ I, 
at least, will not say it, — for I do not think that 
it is true. I believe in my soul that your mother 
was all that you think her — as sweet and as beau- 


G O R G O 


9 1 

tiful, almost, as the goddesses who dwell in heaven, 
and far better than some that the poets sing of. And 
this question, why the gods permit these things, is 
the hardest that any ever asked me, or can ask.” 

“ They are cruel.” And I spoke with a sense 
of triumph even in my grief. 

“ They are wise. Can you not trust something to 
the gods? We cannot know all their wisdom; 
though afterward — yet not always — we may see 
that what they did was best. You wished to sail 
to Thrace. Athena did not permit you. She was 
the wiser.” 

“ That is different,” I said. 

He began again : “ Did your mother, in her very 
love for you, never take anything from you that you 
wanted ? ” 

“Yes: she took the spiced wine once from my 
very lips; and I was angry.” 

“ And did she never refuse you anything when 
you begged her for it? ” 

“ Yes : she would not let me go out through the 
door ; and I begged her many times and cried. She 
was just like Athena, wasn’t she? ” 

“ But afterward you knew that she was good to 
you; and you would believe it now, even if you 
could not quite understand. And just so when the 
gods take from us what we very much want, and 
refuse what we pray for though we fall on our faces 
before them, we often weep bitterly and grow angry, 
and think that they are cruel and that we know better 
than they. And all the while they know best; and 


G O R G O 


92 

they are caring for you more tenderly, if that be 
possible, than your own mother. And but now they 
have delivered you out of the hands of the Syrian, 
which your own mother could hardly have done; 
for, after all, she could not be quite so wise and 
good, and not nearly so strong, as the immortal 
gods. Can you not trust them? for it is only thus 
that we can be truly wise when other wisdom fails 
us. Can you not trust them — even when you do 
not understand — just as you trusted her? O little 
one, it is hard; it is very hard, sometimes, and 
almost more than we can bear, — but can you not 
remember to trust them always ? ” 

“ I will try to, Socrates,’’ I said, choking. And 
still, beneath it all, that same thought was droning 
in the bottom of my heart — the Syrian ought to 
be killed. 

And so we reached my father’s house. And when 
Trogon, already miraculously sober, had flung open 
the door, he bawled out : 

“ The little master ! ” 

And my father came with long strides. Yet my 
soul was so full of the tumult of strange thoughts 
that I lay in his arms like one dazed, and scarcely 
spoke; and I slept little that night, though I was 
very weary. 


VIII. 


Schoolmates 

T HE next morning I found that the Syracusan 
had disappeared. Pistias was again steward 
in his stead. Trogon’s back was not without 
marks, but he accounted himself lucky; and when 
his punishment was ended he was treated with 
marked kindness. Most of the maids soon vanished, 
being replaced by others, but Lyssa was kept; for 
when I had told all my story she was given 
to Trogon, and better quarters assigned them both. 
Trogon got little wine now, but despite the flogging 
he had earned, the memory of that long debauch was 
a joy to him and he grunted gleefully at every men- 
tion of it. “ The little master bring me wine him- 
self,” he chuckled, — “ gets it out of the sealed 
jugs for Trogon. And Trogon get so drunk that the 
roof goes round like a pot-wheel all day; but old 
Trogon don't forget to lay across the door. The 
little master gets Trogon at last, though — can’t 
anybody get the best of little master — and Trogon 
gets after the Syracusan and scares the women. 
Cha-cha-cha! And then Trogon finds the door un- 
hapsed, and he gets so scared he drinks water. And 
the master comes and finds little master gone, and 
93 


G O R G O 


94 

Trogon gets the scorpion. Then the queer beggar- 
man brings back the little master ; and he talks to his 
father, and old Trogon gets Lyssa. And Trogon 
will eat the mud at little master’s feet.” 

Of Socrates I saw little for a season, though my 
father did a few times lead me to him, always going 
with me himself, for he greatly disapproved of 
Alcibiades and some others who were always pres- 
ent, — he would never let me be alone with them. 

“ They are an evil sort,” he said, “ debauched and 
reckless, and our Athens groans with their riot. I 
cannot well understand why this Socrates consorts 
with them. He himself, I think, is bad man, 
though his ways are strange. He was very kind to 
you, my son, and it irks me that I cannot reward 
him ; but he will take no gifts — positively, he will 
accept nothing. He is the strangest fellow in 
Athens, and goes about dressed like a menial, 
though everybody says he could fill his chest with 
money if he would — a man of rather good family, 
too, though poor, of course. And really he is quite 
an able sophist, though he doesn’t look it and doesn’t 
teach for pay. He is very fixed about that last, as 
I know by trial, for I sought to induce him to give 
you some simple lessons, here at the house, for which 
I would have paid him well, and he would not. He 
seemed almost offended. On the whole I was more 
glad than sorry, for many do not think well of him, 
and it is probable that his doctrines are not very 
sound — perhaps even pernicious in some particu- 
lars. There must be something of that sort to at- 


G O R G O 


95 

tract such a wild young cub as that Alcibiades, who 
tented with him in Thrace and follows him now nose 
up, as if he scented rank meat of some kind. The 
man is a good soldier I must allow, but he made 
an ill use of valour when he saved that young whelp 
from among the pikes. Better for Athens if the 
brass had bitten him.” 

I did not try to defend Alcibiades : it did not 
seem necessary; he did not care. Socrates cared 
still less ; and yet — 

“ O father,” I cried, “ he is wiser than anybody ” 
— and I was vexed. 

“ I suspect, my son, that his wisdom is not very 
deep; in fact, he himself admits it. Moreover, he 
meddles too much with things that do not concern 
him, and so gives needless offence. He provoked 
even Pericles with foolish questions; and they tell 
me that he asked Cleon if he thought politics like 
tanning, where all the beasts that are taken must 
be slaughtered for their hides. That was not so bad, 
either. But in his own affairs he is no better than 
a madman. Why, they say he has just wedded such 
a wife — ” He whitened and stopped short; he 
could not yet endure any word that recalled my 
mother’s death. He drew in a quick breath, like one 
who has stepped upon a thorn, then resumed : 
“ That your friend Socrates is apt in turning words 
I concede, and I have often wondered that he never 
comes before the assembly. He would certainly 
prove a more gracious demagogue than Cleon, if 
only in this, that he does not extort money.” 


G O R G O 


96 

“ No,” I said, “ and he would not kill people — 
not even when they ought to be killed. He would 
not let them kill the Syrian.” 

“ We will have that Syrian yet,” said my father, 
frowning. “ I perceive a clue, I think. But if our 
good friend does not like the smell of blood, he is 
indeed unlike Cleon. The fellow got a decree passed 
lately for putting to the knife a full thousand of 
those oligarchs from Mytilene — men who had led 
in the revolt, yet even so I have doubts that this was 
altogether wise. But that was not enough for 
Cleon ; he was hot to cut the throats of all that were 
found in the city, which was sheer folly — nay, 
rankly unjust, for many of them had aided us. Yet 
we were scarcely able to save them. Paches — poor 
fellow — was just leading out the hoplites to begin 
the work when the reprieve came, after a hot race 
over the sea.” 

I pictured to myself a great city with blood in 
every house. I have never been oversqueamish, yet 
this sickened me. But the race — 

“ Tell me about that,” I begged him. 

“ It is nothing much — some rather fine rowing, 
however. You see the first assembly had voted to 
kill them all — the people are very headstrong now- 
adays, my son — and Cleon had sent out the neces- 
sary orders. The next day the citizens thought 
better of it, and we sent out a reprieve. It was a 
close race, for the first trireme was already half-way 
over at least. But we picked our crew ; each man 
of them had the promise of silver, and they almost 


G O R G O 


97 

lifted the ship out of the water. They never once 
rose from the rowing-benches, not even to eat, but 
crammed wine-soaked barley into their mouths as 
they bent forward at the oar ; and the stroke of the 
blades fell as steadily as the hoof-beats when a 
good horse gallops. The other gang were not 
straining fir nor bursting oar-slings — if they were 
paid it was not for speed; they indeed landed first, 
but when our boat came foaming in just after, al- 
though, as I told you, the knives were out, no blood 
had been spilt. Father Demus is in an ugly mood, 
my son, and when the rage chokes him he coughs 
through Cleon. But the Spartans are no better; 
they do not even respect the dead. I hear they are 
casting them out unburied now — and that is horri- 
ble.” 

“Do you think that is worse than killing?” I 
asked. 

“ Far worse,” he declared. “ Even Socrates, I 
presume, would grant that.” 

“ No,” I said. “ He doesn’t care anything at all 
about the body.” 

“ That is true — he does not,” exclaimed my 
father, with a sudden illumination. “ One may see 
that at a glance. But he is quite wrong. It is just 
as I feared : the man is an innovator, and holds 
opinions of his own devising, which are no proper 
part either of religion or of sane philosophy.” 

And after that he led me no more to listen to the 
voice of Socrates. I grieved a bit, yet soon forgot ; 
and my loss, perhaps, was not great, for when 


G O R G O 


98 

Socrates talked with others it was much harder to 
understand. Besides, I had other business now, and 
had ceased to abuse my hours with profitless mu- 
sings. 

“ Little Theramenes,” my father had said one 
day, when I had been exploiting with unusual open- 
ness some of my notions about Alcibiades, “ my 
little son, you are strangely ignorant of much that 
you ought to know, and your thoughts are steeped 
in pestilent fancies.” This surprised me, for I had 
conceived myself rather keen. He would not argue 
the point, but went on : “ You have been neglected, 
and I blame myself. You must go to the schools and 
the gymnasium, to meet others of your own age and 
learn what is customary. Else,” he said, smiling, 
“ the house of Hagnon will have for its heir no war- 
rior, as of old, but a dreamy, dreary sophist, or per- 
haps a poet.” ' 

That stung me and I flung away my speculations. 
The schools, shut for a time by the plague, were 
again open ; and I went out to them every day, even 
when the snowflakes were flying, with my tunic 
drawn close about me, and lame old Amblys, a new 
slave, to attend me. And I found that my father 
was right : I was absurdly ignorant of all sorts of 
things that everybody is supposed to' know, and 
this I could not conceal, but made myself ridiculous 
before the others. The boys laughed at me noisily 
at first, mocking my curious fancies and odd ways, 
and giving me the nickname Skioides, which I 
hated; but with hand or tongue, they found, I was 


G O R G O 


99 

as quick as any, and I soon buffeted and blustered 
my way to the front. 

Of these schoolboy years I shall relate only a few 
incidents, for now my life was much like that of all 
the rest. I learned quickly the usual mixture of 
good and evil, and grew stronger in body and more 
rugged in spirit. What I lost in baby bloom I 
gained, perhaps, in the ruddy glow of defiant boy- 
hood, and my father rejoiced at the change, though 
my mother, as I have often thought, would have 
sighed. 

There was in the school a little Plataean, called 
Myron, who was being educated at the public ex- 
pense because his parents had given up their home 
for Athens, — though his father was one of those 
who had stayed to garrison the town. I liked him 
chiefly because he liked me, and was timid and clung 
to me. There was another, named Thrasybulus, 
whom I liked even better, because he was SO’ bold and 
frank and cared for nobody. He was just my own 
age; I thought him rather conceited, but we got 
along very well together. There was still another, 
named Critias, a little older, very unruly, fierce and 
passionate in his temper, stopping at nothing. He 
bullied all of us, and we both hated and admired 
him; he influenced me much, for he had the sort 
of will that crushes others. Thrasybulus and he 
often quarrelled, and I made peace between them. 
“What’s the use?” I would say. “Quit it, both 
of you, so that we can have some sport.” 

At last I quarrelled with him, too. He had 

! L.of C. 


IOO 


G O R G O 


thrown down Myron and sat on him, twisting his 
arm and laughing at his cries. First Thrasybulus 
tried to drag him off, but Critias drove him away 
and stoned him, then returned to Myron. I began 
to remonstrate. “ Keep your teeth shut,” he warned 
me, “ or I will do as much for you, Theramenes. 
You are always interfering.” I persisted, and he 
caught me suddenly by the throat. I struggled hard, 
but was choked until everything swam before me, 
and when he let go I fell flat. But I had taken 
his strength; and when Thrasybulus came back 
with a broken spear-shaft and struck him on the 
head, he too fell and lay across my body. Then 
Thrasybulus spurned him aside, laughing in tri- 
umph, while Myron wept over me and whispered 
soft words in my ear; but it was long before I 
heard them. 

Do you wonder why I tell of this little affray? 
Wait — these boys became men. 

It was not often that our plays were as rough as 
that, though the hardness of the time touched even 
the sports of the children. And in the main we 
stood by each other, though treachery was not 
unknown. The school, doubtless, was a good prep- 
aration for what was to come after, for our life there 
was full of strains and temptations, and the master 
was as harsh as Ares, beating us with a joy like the 
joy of battle whenever we could not repeat our 
lessons. Then first I learned the taste of a stick ; and 
I lied to him often, — we all lied to shield each other. 
I liked the gymnasium better, although there too 


G O R G O 


IOI 


thumps were common currency. Boxing I liked 
especially, and our trainer permitted it with the 
bare fists or soft wrappings, though he forbade 
us the heavy cestus of the men. I cared little for 
blows when it was permitted to strike back ; but the 
other sort burnt into my soul like a branding. Yet 
blows were the least of sorrows in those days. 

One morning, I remember, little Myron came in 
crying bitterly. He knew nothing of his task and 
got the rod, weeping just as before. When we went 
out together we asked him about it, and he told 
us that his father was dead. The Spartans had 
taken Plataea at last, and had put to death all that 
surrendered. 

“ They shouldn’t have surrendered,” I said. 

“ They were starving,” he answered. “ They were 
so hungry that they didn’t care. And nobody came 
from here to help them, — not even our own country- 
men who had broken through the line and escaped.” 

“ Why wasn’t your father one of those? ” asked 
Thrasybulus. 

“ They told my mother that he did start with 
them,” sobbed Myron, “ but when the tiles fell and 
woke the guard he got frightened and turned back.” 

“ Your father was a fool and has paid the pen- 
alty,” exclaimed Critias. “ When I start anything 
I always carry it through.” 

“ But what was that about the breaking out ? ” I 
asked. “ I never heard of it before.” 

“ Of course not,” said Critias. “ You never heard 
of anything later than the Odyssey, Theramenes.” 


102 


G O R G O 


“ There are things worth knowing in the Odys- 
sey,” put in Thrasybulus. “If you and I knew as 
much of it we should know less of the cane. But 
that was fine about the Plataeans who got away. I 
shall always think the better of all Plataeans for 
that.” 

“ Tell me about it, Thrasybulus,” I begged. 

So he told me the whole story, while Myron sat 
in the dust sobbing and Critias stood by and whis- 
tled. For we had stopped in the middle of the 
square. 

“ The siege had been going on more than a year,” 
he began. “ You know about that? ” 

“ No,” I confessed. “ Tell me everything.” 

He looked at me in surprise. “ One wouldn’t 
think you had good wit, Theramenes, until he had 
tried you. Well, it was this way.” 

He found a tile and set it up edgewise. “ There, 
that is the wall,” he said. “ The Plataeans were be- 
hind it, and the whole Spartan army was camped in 
front, Thebans and Peloponnesians, and helots, and 
everybody they could bring. And when they tried 
to take the town because the men inside stood by 
Athens and wouldn’t make terms, first they raised 
a great mound up against it — so.” And he heaped 
sand against the face of the tile. “ But the Platsean 
people dug clear under, so that the mound kept 
falling in — this way.” And with a bit of stick he 
scooped out a hole under the tile and the pile of sand. 
“ But the Spartans kept filling in,” he continued — 
“ there were thousands of them, you know; and the 


G O R G O 


103 


Platseans couldn't get the dirt out fast enough, for 
there were only four or five hundred of them. So 
they stopped that and began to make the wall higher 
in front of the mound, putting all sorts of things 
on top of it.” And he laid the stick along the edge 
of the tile. “ Then, when they found that wouldn’t 
do any longer, because the Spartans kept piling up 
dirt and the thing was getting shaky, they just took 
the bricks of their houses and built a new wall in a 
loop, running round from the old wall on one side, 
right in front of the mound, back to the wall again 
on the other side: like the bow of a yoke, — see.” 
He drew a half-circle behind the tile. 

“ By the gods, that was stiff fighting,” broke in 
Critias. 

“ My father helped in all that,” said Myron, who 
was looking on eagerly now, with the tears half- 
dried on his face. 

“ Yes,” I cried. “ I see — so that if the Spartans 
ever got through the first wall they would only be 
in a little yard before the new one, and would have 
to begin all over again.” 

“ The Spartans didn’t care to try that,” said 
Thrasybulus. “ It was too much like going into 1 a 
pen. So they filled the place up with dry tree-trunks 
and brush, and threw on pitch and set fire to it.” 

“ And then what happened ? ” 

“ Well, it made the hottest fire you ever heard 
of. The flame roared way up into the sky and filled 
the city full of sparks and brands, so that the Pla- 
tseans didn’t know what to do. I heard one of them 


104 


G O R G O 


telling about it in the cheese-market — one of those 
that got away afterward — and he said that their 
faces were blistered, and all through the town every- 
thing wooden was in a blaze. It’s a little place, you 
know, not much bigger than a fort — that is, it was 
— and there was one time when the fire blew right 
over them, almost solid, so that they had to lie 
down. But the Spartans couldn’t get any nearer 
than the Plataeans could while it kept so hot; and 
toward night the wind shifted and there came a 
great, thundering rain-storm that partly put it out. 
When it grew dark they saw that the second wall 
was red hot in places, and over beyond it was like 
the inside of a charcoal pit ; but that only burned the 
bricks harder and melted the faces of them a little, 
and before it was half cool they were putting fresh 
ones on the top where it had crumbled some. I 
like that sort of thing; don’t you?” 

“Yes, by the infernal goddess — always stiff it 
out to the end,” said Critias, coming closer with his 
eyes glowing. “ Those Platseans were men.” 

“ They fought like Ajax by the ships,” I cried, 
warmly, before I had time to think, for I was almost 
ashamed to refer to Homer. “ I am glad people 
are doing things like that nowadays. But what 
about the escape?” 

“ That’s the jolliest part of it,” Thrasybulus con- 
tinued, kicking down the sand heap in his zeal. 
“ The Spartans gave up storming the place after 
the fire — and that’s just like the Spartans, to quit; 
yet they didn’t exactly quit, either — and that’s like 


G O R G O 


105 

them, too. They let go and took a fresh hold, and 
tried to strangle the town by a regular siege. I 
suppose Thebes made them do it : those Thebans 
hate the Platseans so. Anyhow, they set up a double 
brick wall all round the city, with a ditch on each 
side and towers every little way and the parts be- 
tween roofed over. Then they marched off home, 
just as they do every year when they’ve done burn- 
ing our villages ; but they left plenty of men to 
keep the fences. So nobody could get in and nobody 
could get out, and after awhile there wasn’t much 
left to eat. Then about half the Platseans decided 
they wouldn’t stay any longer ; and they didn’t stay, 
though it was an awful risk to take. First they 
made a lot of ladders just the right length — they 
got that by counting the tiers of brick in the Spartan 
wall — then one cold, stormy night, when there 
wasn’t any moon and everything was rattling in the 
wind, they started out, over two hundred of them. 
They went barefoot, and kept wide apart so as not 
to clash their shields. The guards had all sneaked 
under cover, for there was a driving sleet, and the 
Platseans had got their ladders up, and a lot of them 
were already on the roof, when somebody knocked 
down a tile.” He aimed a kick at the one he had set 
on edge, but missed it with advantage to his toes. 
“ Then somebody yelled in the nearest tower, and 
the alarm started. It started both ways at once and 
went clear round the line with a regular roar ; and a 
great crashing noise mixed in with it and chased 
after it, as the Spartans turned out with their arms. 


io6 


G O R G O 


That was the time when some of the Plataeans got 
scared and ran back to the city.” 

He was dancing from one foot to the other. 
Myron began to cry again, but we did not mind 
him. Thrasybulus went on : “ It was the biggest ” 
— he almost stuttered — “ the biggest mix-up ever 
was. Everybody was yelling now, and the lights 
flared everywhere, but nobody but the Plataeans could 
see anything, or knew what was the matter or where 
to go. Those that were left in the city made a rush 
for the wall on the opposite side, and set up such 
a racket that the Spartans thought the trouble was 
there. The others that were on the roof had got the 
towers on both sides of them, and when anybody 
came near with lights they let fly at him. They kept 
swarming up the ladders and down the further side 
and through the ditch, which was just about half 
frozen over, and lined up on the bank with their 
targets and throwing-spears all ready. The Spar- 
tans didn’t kill one, and only one was caught — hard 
luck for him, wasn’t it? ” 

“ Worse luck for the fools that went back,” mut- 
tered Critias. 

“ Oh, go on ! ” I cried. 

“ Well, the Spartans tried to signal to Thebes, 
but the Plataeans in the city mixed them all up with 
torches on the walls. At last a line of hoplites 
got formed outside, but their torches kept them from 
seeing anything, and the Plataeans let drive at them 
a few times and then slipped off in the dark. They 
went straight toward Thebes ! And they saw the 


G O R G O 


107 


other fellows with their torches heading for the 
Oak Knobs and the pass over Cithaeron. But the 
Plataeans only went north about a mile; a little 
way beyond Juno’s temple they turned sharp to the 
right and made their way over the mountains into 
Attica. The next day they were all here in the 
city.” He eased his breath a little. 

“ But what became of those that stayed ? ” 

“ Those? Why there wasn’t much of anything 
left to eat, and the Spartans promised them a fair 
trial, so at last they surrendered. Then the Spar- 
tans found them all guilty. Myron knows. But 
some day you’ll get even with them, Myron, and 
we’ll help you. Wish we could begin now ! ” 

Old Amblys, who had been leaning on his staff, 
hobbled nearer. “ The young master must go to 
the gymnasium now,” he said, looking at the sky, 
“ and the poor old slave will have to puff like 
Hephaestus to keep up with him.” 


IX. 


The Demagogue 

S O the stream of my life flowed on through the 
years of boyhood, — rippling along the streets 
of Athens like the rill from a winter storm, 
born under the trickle of a black sky thunder-riven, 
but sparkling now in the sunlight while the clouds 
are breaking; for as yet my streamlet was far too 
shallow to bear within it shadows of its own. It 
may be that the clouds will gather again to weep 
over a doomed city; it may be that this rill is to 
swell at last to a turbid torrent, dark-hearted, rush- 
ing down these same streets with the remorseless 
fury of vengeance, and joining with others sweep 
away all the glories of Athens, even to the under- 
mining of her walls. Not by my will — not that — 
never by my will or purpose! But who can resist 
the will of fate? That which was set in train from 
the beginning no wish of man can hinder. 

And perhaps, when all is done, I would not have 
it otherwise. Was it I — was it I indeed that 
wrought this ruin? or did that dark and desperate 
game I played save all that survived of Athens? 
And when I had set my life as the final stake, and 
he who played against me overturned the tables and 
108 


G O R G O 


109 

snatched it from me, did I pay a just forfeit? Has 
my name been rightly blotted on the annals of time ? 

Reader, I have appointed you to be my judge. 
To you I make my appeal — for you I have written 
this history; and when it is finished you shall give 
the verdict. I will tell you all the truth — even as 
I told it to Abacus at the gates of shadow. But the 
end is still far off. The sun is shining now; let 
us walk in the sunshine while we may. 

For again there was gladness in Athens. The 
plague had long since departed, though leaving its 
traces in deep scars on the flesh and deeper scars 
in memory. But the terror was gone; the air once 
more was sweet, and we breathed it with joy. The 
war, too, had taken a happier turn. It was now in 
its ninth year, and I in my thirteenth. Despite 
some reverses, good fortune glittered on our hel- 
mets and flashed from our prows. Especially after 
our wonderful success at Pylos — where, in the face 
of all the traditions, more than a hundred young 
Spartans of the best families had yielded to save 
their lives — the smoke of the annual ravage lifted 
from our land and drifted far away. Our sentinels 
still paced on the dizzy ramparts, sixty feet in air, 
scanning the broad basin of the valley blackened 
with fire-blots and ragged with olive stumps, but no 
more hostile armies came in view. They dared not ; 
we were using these noble captives as hostages, and 
war was turned into parley. The Spartans were 
actually begging for peace, and we were in no haste 
to grant it. 


I IO 


G O R G O 


This great change had come to pass in the previous 
summer, when Archidamus, who had just arrived 
on his usual errand, suddenly left our fields while 
the green com was yet standing, recalled by the 
startled Ephors to fight in fields nearer home. Loud 
was the bellow of rage at Sparta, but they were 
helpless; we had them fast by the middle, and like 
an overconfident wrestler played with their strug- 
gles. And during this crisis I had my first glimpse 
of that wild assembly whose tumult I was to face 
so often. 

I had been for some time house-bound by a cruel 
wrench that Critias gave me as we fought in the 
pancratium — it was no fair match, and forbidden, 
too, but he had challenged me — and when at length 
I crept out, wincing with twinges at every step, it 
was Thrasybulus, as usual, who brought me the 
latest news. For he was always scouting about the 
shops on the edge of the market, listening to the 
men’s talk. He was red with excitement. 

“Have you heard?” he asked. 

“ About what ? ” 

“ How the fleet was sailing from Corcyra, and 
a storm drove them into the harbour at Pylos ? ” 

“ Yes, I know.” 

“ And how Demosthenes — the raider that did 
such good fighting round Naupactus — persuaded 
the men to build a fort there on the rocks? They 
built it of rough stones,” he cried, carried away by 
his enthusiasm, “ and they lugged the mud they used 
for mortar on their bare backs, for they hadn’t any 


G O R G O 


1 1 1 


proper tools. They just stooped with their arms 
clasped behind to hold it on.” 

“ I know. And as soon as our ships were gone 
the whole Spartan army and the Spartan fleet came 
up in a hurry ; but they couldn’t do anything. The 
last I heard was how Brasidas tried to- force a land- 
ing, and ran his boat right up on the beach, and 
fought from the prow till he fainted from bleeding 
and fell backward and lost his shield.” 

“ He’s the best man they’ve got,” said Thrasy- 
bulus, decisively. “ The rest are so slow ; but 
Brasidas might have been an Athenian.” 

I assented heartily; but I had no thought then 
what this name might mean to me. He ran on : 

“ Have you heard, though, how our fleet came 
back and caught the Spartan ships in the bay, 
and drove them ashore, — as many as they didn’t 
take? The Spartans did fight like boar dogs on the 
beach.” 

This was new to me. “ Well,” he continued, 
“ you’ve been missing the very best of it. Curse 
that Critias — we’re not through with him yet. 
Never mind, I’ll tell you; I like to. You see there’s 
an island ten stades long right across the mouth 
of the bay. The Spartans had put some men there 
— real Lycurgus men, remember that. Well, 
they’re there yet.” 

“ They are! ” 

“ They’re right there, and we’re going to get 
them. Hasn’t been anything like it since old Pelops 
died. Some of our war-ships keep paddling round 


I I 2 


G O R G O 


and round the island all day, and lie about it, prows 
in, every night ; and the men that are trapped there 
are getting as hungry as all Megara. The Ephors 
came down from Sparta to our camp, and they 
fairly wallowed. Begged for a truce, and gave all 
the rest of their ships — which we’ve kept, though 
all Sparta is howling. Trust us to find reasons. 
Then some of their foremost men came here in one 
of our boats to make terms ; but that bull Cleon 
had his tail up and was pawing sand, so all the 
satisfaction they got was the fun of hearing him 
bellow. They went back with blue faces. They 
got one good turn on him, though, before they left.” 

“ How ? ” I asked. “ Don’t hurry so, Thrasy- 
bulus; my ankle won’t stand it.” 

“ Well, they’d been offering pretty nearly every- 
thing between Olympus and Hades, but we wouldn’t 
hear to it. At last they just proposed to exchange 
even, man for man. Cleon roared at that, but they 
caught him short, and said they were glad to see 
that he too realised that no Athenian was worth 
a Spartan. So the assembly broke up with a laugh. 
But now some of the people are getting worried. 
We’ve been wasting too much time. The season 
is growing late, the winter storms are coming, and 
those Spartans are still on the island when they 
ought to be in Athens. Think of it — if they should 
get away after all ! ” 

“ Hold on ! ” I exclaimed, sucking my breath with 
pain as my ankle turned. “ You’re killing me. 
Where are we going, anyway ? ” 


G O R G O 


1 13 

“ Demosthenes has sent for more soldiers. There’s 
going to be an assembly, and Cleon will dance on 
the footstool of Pericles. Come along ! Here, take 
my shoulder, you limping Lemnian,” he said, halt- 
ing good-naturedly, though his feet burned with 
haste. 

“ They won’t let us in,” I objected. 

“ Never you fear,” he answered. “ We’re not 
going to Lacedaemon, to be lashed off the premises; 
but unless we hurry we shall arrive like a Spartan 
fleet, just a day too late.” 

So I hobbled on at best speed, though the tears 
started now and then. When we reached the Pnyx 
he helped me to the top of a low wall, leaped up 
himself, and there we sat, dangling our legs at 
ease. The assembly was full, but none noticed us; 
all eyes were turned another way. Far beyond 
this nodding barley-field of shaggy heads, rose 
the great stone platform of the bema, where the 
orators and the magistrates were gathered. Busi- 
ness had begun, and Cleon was already at the front, 
pacing the rock with uncouth gestures and harangu- 
ing the people in the style he had learned among 
the beeves and drovers. His voice seemed loud 
even where we hung on the outskirts ; nearer it must 
have been deafening. He was on the defensive, 
apparently. 

“ It is all your own fault,” he was shouting. 
“ Am I to be blamed for good, honest counsel ? 
Did I elect fools to be your generals? The gods 
on Olympus cannot help a fool, nor save those 


O R G O 


i 14 G 

who trust in fools.” He pointed to a big, pursy 
man with a blanched, unwholesome face, who sat 
uneasily among the officials. “ Your generals wear 
victory only in their names,” he cried ; “ they are 
as bold as hares; they win triumphs with choruses; 
they think to lift sieges with hoisting-engines from 
their silver mines; they are keen politicians in the 
slave-market, but in the assembly liverless dotards. 
Look at his cheesy cheeks ! ” 

A roar of laughter followed. “ That’s Nicias,” 
whispered Thrasybulus. 

Cleon raised his voice to its loudest : “If your 
generals were men,” he trumpeted, “ these Spar- 
tans would to-day sit in chains before you, and 
our only debate would be how best to use them.” 

“How if they were tanners?” came a voice 
from the crowd. 

“ Why, if I were general,” he shouted back, “ I 
would have them here in twenty days.” 

Again the assembly shook with laughter. “ Why 
don’t you do it, Cleon ? — Then go and get them, 
Cleon ! — Try it, Cleon ! we’ll give you twenty 
days ” — these were the cries that rang from every 
quarter. 

Even Cleon faltered at that. “ You know that I 
am no general,” he protested. “ But if I were, 
I could do it.” 

The cries redoubled. It was rare sport to see 
Cleon posed. “ Make him general ! — Send him 
out with reinforcements ! ” — echoed the voices. 


G O R G O 


i 15 

“ This goes too far,” I whispered to Thrasy- 
bulus. “ The people are crazy.” 

“ Well,” he answered, “ we should either get 
the Spartans or get rid of Cleon. At least, that’s 
what Nicias thinks.” 

He was right. Nicias had already risen with 
an evil smile. He spoke with ease and force, though 
his manner was cringing. 

“ Good citizens,” he said, “ you have uttered a 
voice that is like Apollo’s oracle. The gods have 
spoken by your tongues; it is an omen; it cannot 
result amiss. By all means send out this man as 
general ; let us not lose an opportunity so precious. 
And let none imagine that I shall stand in the way. 
I too wish to see these Spartans securely chained 
— if it be so easy to take Spartans alive — and I 
gladly resign my office to one so much more com- 
petent. Make him general and send him out on 
his own conditions ; and if, perchance, you should 
later find that he is but a liar and an empty brag- 
gart, that lesson will prove a good purchase.” 

Again and again Cleon shrunk back, but the peo- 
ple would not have it otherwise. At last he faced 
about. 

“ Elect me, then,” he cried, boldly, “ and I will 
make good my word. Nor do I ask for one Athe- 
nian hoplite to lead into what he might deem 
peril. Only give me a few of these Lemnians and 
Imbrians for a ballast, and let Demosthenes be my 
lieutenant, and in twenty days I will produce before 
you every Spartan in the island, alive or dead, — for 


1 1 6 GORGO 

I cannot undertake to guarantee their health in case 
they prove obstinate.’’ 

And so it was voted with an overwhelming 
clamour of assenting voices : all parties joined in 
this mad performance. Seeing the assembly about 
to break, we slid from the wall and made off. 

“ Now wasn’t that worth a leg, you hobbling 
Hephaestus ? ” demanded Thrasybulus, as he bent 
his neck to the yoke of my arm. But I was too full 
of thought to answer. Soon we were overpassed 
by throngs of citizens, laughing and discussing the 
chances. 

“ I lay you three obols — and that’s a fair day’s 
wages — that he does it,” one exclaimed. 

“ And I lay you a drachma that he doesn’t — and 
that’s double,” retorted another. 

“ Thrasybulus,” I said, in a low tone as we shuf- 
fled along, “ I like Cleon the better. I spit at that 
Nicias. If anything ill happens, he is to blame.” 

“ Well,” he answered, “ Nicias is a good man, 
able and well esteemed. He is rich, too, and gives 
freely, and they say he’s the most pious man in 
Athens; but he hasn’t the heart of a pigeon. He 
salutes all the sycophants on the street, and they 
just live off him. He’s always dreadfully busy, but 
never does anything. Cleon is a terrible bully and 
as greedy as a hog; but there really is something 
about him that one likes better.” 

In fact, the wonder of wonders came to pass. 
Cleon fulfilled his promise to the letter. It was early 
on the morning of the twentieth day when Thrasy- 


G O R G O 


1 17 

bulus came banging at the door. Trogon rubbed 
his eyes, peered out, and let him in. 

“ He’s got them,” Thrasybulus shouted, when 
he saw me. There was no need of names, for all 
Athens had been talking of nothing else. 

“ Alive?” I cried. 

“ Alive! ” he answered. “ A hundred and twenty 
Spartans of the full blood ! ” 

“ And Cleon ! How ever did he do it ? ” 

“ Yes, Cleon — or Demosthenes, perhaps. It’s all 
the same — Cleon is bringing them home. We 
burnt the cover off the island, landed a lot of men, 
and showered them with spindles until they flung 
up their hands.” 

Together we ran down to the port — my ankle 
was nearly well now — and reached it just in time 
to see the dejected procession file down the plank, 
while all Athens shouted. They were not in chains, 
either — we used them well — fine-looking young 
fellows, but the most shamed of any I ever saw. As 
for Cleon, he was despot of Athens that day — if he 
so chose. He acted like it, but simply rubbed in 
his triumph. Nicias stood at a distance with a 
group of friends. He always looked like cheese, 
but that morning he even looked mouldy. I longed 
to throw mud at him. For more than a month the 
city was in jubilation. 

Then a general truce was made for a year — 
though there was still fighting in Thrace, where 
Brasidas was recklessly stirring up revolts. But 
at home there were only embassies passing to and 


1 1 8 


G O R G O 


fro; and as I have told you, the war was in its 
ninth year, and I was thirteen, and the sun shone 
bright over Athens. 

My father went on some of these missions, for 
once he had served as proxenus for Sparta and had 
friendships there and much influence. 

“ Theramenes,” he said, one day, “ it is time that 
you saw more of other places. Make ready to start 
with me to-morrow. We go to' Sparta.” 

“ But can I, father ? ” I asked. “ Will they let 
me in? ” For I had heard queer stories of Spartan 
customs. 

“ At present they will do almost anything that we 
desire,” he announced. “ However, for form’s sake, 
you will go as my shield-bearer.” 

“ Yes, I can carry your shield now, father — 
easily.” 

“ That will hardly be needful,” said he, smiling, 
“ unless it be at the moment of our first reception. It 
is merely a matter of ceremony, my son, and an 
honourable office. You are still too raw; the at- 
tendants will bear our burdens.” 

We set out the very next day. 


X. 


On the Road to Sparta 

T HE great things of life do not come to pass 
unheralded. I have ever thought lightly of 
those ingenious omens which clever profes- 
sionals read by rule from the flight of birds or the 
bowels of beasts. It is not in such tricky fashion 
that fate speaks to us; yet the voice of the future 
is always sounding, and they are but fools who are 
not warned. For who does not know that great sor- 
rows come like the storm, with damp breath and a 
swell of warning winds ? Death itself — unless it 
be that mad, glad death which rushes forth from the 
clang of trumpets, spilling the blood while it yet 
is hot — death too comes with a forecast of out- 
creeping shadows and deepening gloom; and per- 
haps, to him who lifts his eyes, a brightening star. 
But when the great joy of youth approaches, its 
herald is like the rosy, zenith-pointing finger of the 
dawn; the whole sky encarminates, and the violet 
mist of ether sprays downward until all the air is 
drenched in fiery exhalations. Then the eye makes 
ready for the rising sun, and the nostrils tingle and 
the heart leaps up with a perilous throb, — for this 
119 


I 20 


G O R G O 


wine of the dawn is the very nectar of the gods, 
and the. crimson juices of the grape are as nothing 
to it. 

Such a dawn was in the sky as we set forth on 
our journey; and such a dawn was in my heart. 
Then, by some untraceable suggestion, the words 
of Socrates came back to me and sang in my ear, — 
“ The soul is that part which was not born and can- 
not die, but is your very self.’’ Then, like an echo, 
— “ Some wonderful thing is coming to that within 
you which was not born and never dies, but is your 
very self.” Yet for a time nothing befell other than 
might have been expected. 

The weather was cold, and a thin paste of snow 
lay on the ground as we started; for it was still 
winter. We filed slowly through the streets just as 
the doors were opening, — our number about fifty, 
including the soldiers and servants, all mounted 
upon horses or asses. I had wondered a little that 
we did not go by ship, since the sea was our own 
domain; but they told me that the voyage was too 
rough at this season, and the roads were at present 
accounted safe. So the gates creaked open and 
crashed behind us, and we emerged on the great 
processional road to Eleusis just as the sun broke 
over the hills in our rear. And now, as we crossed 
the open plain, the sea-wind struck us with such 
stinging buffets that it whipped my blood to mad- 
ness. Are not these the airs that have ever made 
our Hellas the battle-ground of freedom ? The very 
slaves grew re§tless as they breathed it. As for me, 


G O R G O 


I 2 I 


with my cloak streaming like a pennant from my 
throat, my wide hat flapping and tugging at its 
laces, I lashed my horse to a gallop and wheeled and 
careened on the slippery track until the stern voice 
of my father checked me. 

“ I know well that you are but a lad,” he said, 
“ but remember that you march with men.” 

The melted snow was already channelling the 
hill-slope when we mounted the low pass leading to 
the Eleusinian vale, where the sea again came in 
view, rolling up the beach in rainbow curves. We 
did not pause to enter the little town, but rode 
straight past the ancient temple about which I had 
heard so many whispers. Then the road grew 
narrow and steep and winding, scarcely more than 
a trail, as we threaded the mountains of the border. 
The keen wind chilled me now ; I grew so stiff and 
weary that I could scarcely sit upon my horse. 

The sun was already low when we descended into 
the Megarian country, — a mere desert now, for 
here we had avenged all that our fields had suf- 
fered from torch and axe. Twice every year from 
the war’s beginning, we had ravaged this little 
land with the bitterness of pent-up hate. Not a 
tree was standing, nor a house; and in all that 
desolate plain we saw but a single man, lean and 
fierce, skulking among the stumps. Doubtless the 
dark circuit of the city walls which now rose before 
us contained many such, full of rage and hunger, 
with no welcome for either friend or foe. We did 
not seek shelter there, but after fording a swollen 


I 22 


G O R G O 


stream turned leftward to the fortress at Nissea, the 
port captured the year before and still held by our 
forces. There was no delay at the gate, and we were 
presently quartered in a large caravansary, thawing 
and steaming before a fire of logs in the open court ; 
for they had no coals. Our couches were spread 
on the floor within, and as soon as I had eaten I 
relaxed my sore joints under the blankets; but I 
lay awake for a time, listening to the talk of the 
men, for the captain of the garrison had come 
down and was plying my father with questions. I 
heard the name of Brasidas repeated many times : he 
had thwarted their plans against Megara, it seems, 
while on his way to' Thrace, where he was now 
making further trouble. 

“ There can be no peace till that fellow is dead,” 
exclaimed the captain loudly ; and with those words 
in my ears I fell asleep. 

The strange dream that followed was meaning- 
less, perhaps; yet I will tell it. Brasidas himself 
stood before me. In one hand he held a city, full 
of people; in the other a rose, bright with dew- 
drops; “Choose,” he said — “one, but not both.” 
I snatched the rose, for in my dream it seemed to 
me fragrant and beautiful beyond all price: where- 
upon he flung the city at my feet, and it broke in 
pieces; and his face was changed. I stooped to 
gather up the fragments, but as I strove to lay them 
together the rose fell from my hand and lay with 
scattered petals; yet the fragrance was sweeter 
than before. Then a darkness came, and through it 


G O R G O 


123 


white faces scowled at me; a great horror was upon 
me, and my limbs grew numb. I awoke in an 
agony of grief and fear. The darkness and the tears 
were real enough; and so was the numbness, for I 
had flung off my blanket. As for those faces — I 
cannot assume to say whether dreams are prophetic, 
— but I have seen them since. 

I slept little after that, but lay shivering; and 
when I arose it was like the morning after wine. 
Yet the day’s ride called for a firm hand with a 
steady eye to guide it ; for we followed the seashore 
road which runs like a narrow shelf along the face 
of the cliffs, so that to one looking landward across 
the waves we must have appeared like a moving 
group of statues set in a pediment. For at times 
if a pebble glanced from a horse’s hoof it fell in 
the surf that crashed beneath, while above us the 
crags jutted out like a cornice and overhung the 
track ; only here and there was it possible for those 
who met to pass in safety. But we encountered 
few. Once, at a dizzy, projecting angle, a stolid 
JVlegarian flattened himself against the rock as we 
brushed by. As I passed I shuddered and thought 
of Sciron ; for one strong push would have set my 
horse on a path of air. But that was the climax; 
at length the road widened and descended, a culti- 
vated plain opened before us on the right, and the 
mountain citadel of Corinth came in view. We 
soon crossed the great ship-road where the galleys 
were dragged across the isthmus from sea to sea, but 
it was nightfall when we halted at the closed gate 


G O R G O 


1 24 

of the town. Only after a long and wrangling 
parley were we admitted. Within, money secured 
us food and lodging, but black looks were our chief 
entertainment. It was easy to see that these people 
were greatly vexed about the truce, and when we 
rode forth in the morning we were almost mobbed. 
Painted women screamed insults from roofs and 
windows, while the gathering rabble pursued us 
with threats and curses. My father wheeled and 
faced them. 

“ Take heed what you do,” he shouted, “ for we 
travel under the safe-conduct of your own allies.” 

“ Your allies — not ours,” called back one of 
them. 

“ Since Pylos, Sparta’s iron is turned to lead,” 
growled another. 

“ The Spartan oaks have been shedding shields,” 
bawled a third. “ Perhaps they will come and teach 
us how to surrender! ” 

“ Or how to betray allies ! and a sneaking Thes- 
salian could do as much.” 

“ Have these brave words yet been uttered in 
Sparta, — or do you wish me to report them there? ” 
retorted my father. But already they had begun to 
slink away, for the gate with its armoured guard 
was near; and we passed out unscathed, though 
our cheeks were hot. 

Before us and on the right rose mountains 
sheathed in shining snow far down their slopes ; yet 
the breezes were soft and springlike. At first I 
fancied that I saw snow on the low hills near us 


G O R G O 


125 

also, but this was only the gleam from sunlit patches 
of bare, white earth. We moved swiftly now, amid 
planted fields and through valleys where the sheep 
were grazing, easily reaching Argos before a man’s 
shadow would exceed a spear’s length. Here again 
we heard taunts against the Spartans, whose name 
was fast losing its magic ; but we were ourselves 
received with marked courtesy, and well entertained 
by a citizen who professed much friendship for 
Athens. 

“ It can be done,” I overheard him saying to my 
father — “ it can and shall be done. But we must 
still be cautious; we must wait.” 

The next day I had a new taste of the hardships 
of a winter march. In the morning our course lay 
along the coast, — a mere margin of plain, notched 
by encroaching mountain spurs and cut through 
by the streams which rushed down between them. 
The fords were by no means at their worst, yet the 
crossing was perilous business; at least, it seemed 
so to me. More than once I cried out with fear 
as my stout beast swayed in the current and I felt 
the ice-cold water lapping my thighs. 

Then, as our shadows shortened with the approach 
of noon, our path bent upward, and our horses’ 
hoofs began to rattle on the stones. A camp ap- 
peared on the right, but when we had showed our 
tokens to the captain he let us pass. So we climbed 
on through ravines dark with pines, struggling up 
steep stairways of twisted roots. Often we extorted 
a track from the grudging banks of torrents, and 


1 26 


G O R G O 


when they grew shallower even made their plashing 
beds our road. My father kept as near me as he 
could. 

“ This is worse than I thought,” he said. “ I 
was wrong to choose so rough a route. A Spartan 
lad of your age would make little of it, but you have 
been bred more softly.” 

“ No,” I told him, “ I am glad we came this 
way. I like it better so.” 

Yet I shuddered at every stumble, and my eyes 
were blurred with giddiness, and my chest ached 
with the strain of my bated breath before that sheer 
ascent was finished. I was only a boy, and a green 
horseman. 

We were now far up the heights in a region 
of glens, riding amid a growth of gnarled and 
stubby oaks, unlike any that I had ever seen. 
Their trunks were as weather-worn as the rocks, 
and in the same way mottled with silvery lichen 
and green mosses; while the limbs, bare of leaves, 
waved weirdly with streamers of the grassy golden 
mistletoe. Often we crunched through snowbanks, 
still mounting aloft against gusts O'f icy wind, until 
at last we attained a bleak, flat summit which my 
father told me was the scene of the famous duel 
between the Argives and the Spartans; and he 
pointed out the spot where the brave Othryades slew 
himself beside his trophy because he was ashamed 
to survive his comrades. 

“ They fall on their swords no longer,” growled 
Laches, who had halted near us. “ They have 


G O R G O 


127 


learned to fall on their faces instead, else our mis- 
sion were an idle one.” His teeth chattered. “ This 
is no place to delay,, even if the tale be false that 
the silly shades still battle here in the moonlight. 
Let us hurry on.” 

The day was spent, and the billowy ridges below 
us lay pale in twilight, but we plunged downward 
through the dangerous gloom. At times I shut 
my eyes and left all to my horse, with a trembling 
trust. Thus we groped in black shadow, while the 
moon rose slowly behind until its rays glinted down 
the slope from ledge to ledge; then we came upon 
a sheepfold sunk in a hollow, where the dogs 
which rushed out at us baying, were beaten off 
with spear-butts. The shepherds themselves clam- 
oured almost as loudly; yet we forced our welcome 
and passed the night with fleas and helots. 

I was roused by a jargon of curses and a scuffle 
that set the sheep bleating. Our guards had seized 
one of the men to serve as guide, — a savage-look- 
ing fellow, dressed in foul, woolly hides, surly as 
the dogs at first, but soon brought to reason by the 
sight of money. He led us through the mists down 
the channel of a stream which he called Phounias : 
its waters sucked at my legs as we crossed from 
side to side, and I could well believe that its heart 
was murderous in flood-time. At last we emerged 
on the brow of a long declivity. The mist was 
now full of light, but still hung about us like a shin- 
ing veil. Then it shook in the wind, and parted, 


128 G O R G O 

and blew away in gray shreds, scudding along the 
ridges. 

“ There ! ” said the helot. 

The wide Laconian valley lay before us, streaked 
with streams, dotted with hamlets, its fields already 
green with the springing grain. Beyond rose the 
jagged crests of Taygetus, helmeted in ice which 
flashed back the morning sun. Far down to the left 
we caught a glimmer of the sea; but on our right 
the head of the valley lifted itself in a tumult of 
hills and mountains more lofty than those behind us. 
These were the walls of Sparta, that needed no 
other : the whole land was a fortress. 

“ Now I go to my sheep,” said our guide. 

We needed him no longer, and he clambered back 
up the ravine with his silver. Soon we were canter- 
ing over the plain, breathing air that was like sum- 
mer in its softness. The birds were twittering in 
busy flocks among the clods; the lowing of cattle 
was all about us; the very helots were laughing 
as they issued from the villages. Here the Spartan 
had lived in peace, while his armies had trampled 
down our vineyards and left no shade of roof or 
bough in all Attica. I thought of the ashes of 
our home. 

“ Is there no other road — no easier pass ? ” I 
cried out, angrily. 

“ There are other roads, but none is easy,” replied 
my father. “No enemy has ever entered by any 
one of them since the Dorian made this place his 
citadel. My son, do not think vain thoughts.” 


G O R G O 


1 29 


“ Yet they yielded at Pylos,” I persisted. 

“ They yielded ; and all men wondered. Cut off 
on a rock and assailed by twenty times their num- 
ber they yielded; and even so our task was not 
easy.” 

“ But they flee before our ships — eighty of theirs 
against twenty, and they fled from Phormio,” I 
cried. 

“ Athens is the mother of ships,” he answered, 
“ and the sea, with all its coasts and islands, is 
hers. But where the phalanx ranges Sparta rules. 
Think no vain thoughts, my son.” 

We rode on in silence. Sparta itself was now 
in sight, — a mere straggle of villages stretched 
along the low hills that rose beyond the distant 
river. It seemed unworthy of its fame — indeed, 
scarcely worthy to be called a city; for it lay like 
an overgrown hamlet, open on every side, without 
wall or tower or symmetry. Here and there great 
buildings appeared, some of them quite imposing 
and in a rude way magnificent; there was one in 
particular that glittered on the highest crest in a 
sheen of brazen plates. But to me they all seemed 
uncouth and out of place; the whole effect was 
disappointing. 

Soon we were met by a convoy of hoplites, led 
by a grizzled old taxiarch called Rhyzon, between 
whose house and ours, as my father told me, there 
was an ancient guest-bond. His face was full of 
hard lines, but he greeted us with gruff civility. At 
me, however, he stared with unconcealed contempt. 


13 ° 


G O R G O 


“ Very pretty,” he growled, “ but is it a lad or 
a lass? If these be your soldiers, Hagnon, a Spar- 
tan girl could master them.” 

“ I fear not the match,” I answered, hotly. 

“ It should be an evil match for you,” he an- 
swered. “ In what sort of contest, young man, do 
you profess this skill ? ” 

“ I can wrestle,” I cried, for I had learned many 
trips from Critias. 

He frowned blackly. My father’s lips twitched 
with a smile. 

“ At least, I have never yet flung up my hands,” 
I added. 

He raised his stick. “ Hold, Rhyzon,” exclaimed 
my father. “ It is my son; and if, in thoughtless- 
ness, he spoke below his breeding, it was not without 
provocation.” 

The Spartan lowered his arm and smote his staff 
upon the ground. “If he be your son he is my 
guest,” he said. “ I knew him not, and old eyes do 
not love new faces. But let me tell you, Hagnon, 
he is too presuming. No Spartan youth would 
thus wag a saucy tongue at age.” 

“ Aye,” responded my father. “ A Spartan’s 
spear is sharp, but his tongue is blunt.” 

“ It is not too> big to lie behind his teeth,” said 
Rhyzon. 

This certainly seemed true of our escort, to whom 
I now turned my attention lest I give more offence. 
They were handsome young fellows, strong-limbed 
and splendidly equipped, but they marched in silence, 


G O R G O 


1 3 i 

never swerving their eyes from the track, with a 
tramp as steady as the beat of oars. They did not 
even clash their arms; every shield and spear was 
set at the same angle, and the interspaces never 
varied. I longed to question them, but dared not. 
Here was a tension of discipline that was new 
to me. 

We crossed the Eurotas on an ancient bridge, 
leaving behind us our soldiers and servants, for 
none of them were allowed to enter the city. On 
the further bank we also parted from our associates, 
who were led away to be entertained in different 
quarters. We alone continued with Rhyzon ; and 
after passing through various streets we at length 
came out on the brow of a hill-slope facing the 
river. The Spartan turned toward me with a 
singular air. 

“ Look, young Athenian boaster,” he said. 
“ Look, before you defy the maids of Sparta.” 


XI. 


A Wrestling Mat 

T HE slope on the verge of which we were 
standing was crowded with men and women ; 
all Sparta, I think, was there. At its foot 
lay a race-course, traced by barriers on the flat 
floor of the hollow, and toward this all eyes were 
bent. My gaze went with theirs; and I beheld 
a spectacle which only Sparta could offer and which 
few except Spartans ever looked upon. For those 
who contended were maidens, — the fairest in 
Hellas, — ■ and at that very moment a bevy of them 
hung in a little white cloud at the furthest limit 
of the track. Then, with a flitter of shining feet 
and a streaming glow of ruddy faces, a flock of 
these lissome nymphs broke from the line and sped 
over the sand like quail darting to cover. They ran 
with wonderful grace and swiftness, and their dress, 
though simple and closely gathered, was in no way 
immodest, — this I caught at a glance. One seemed 
to loiter; she will lose, I thought, and somehow I 
was sorry; but as they neared the goal she passed 
all with the swoop of a swallow, and the hillside 
rang with the name of Gorgo. 

132 


G O R G O 


133 


“ Who is she? ” I exclaimed. 

The Spartan looked at me keenly. “ You have 
heard of a certain Brasidas,” he said, “ whom they 
call the firebrand? He is my brother, though 
younger by twenty years. Him Gorgo calls father 
— a stout enemy to thee and thine.” 

I remembered my dream with a sudden heart- 
quake, and was silent. I looked down toward 
Gorgo, but fierce faces came between. 

Three more races were quickly run by different 
bands ; then the four winners were matched for the 
final contest. Two soon fell to the rear; but Gorgo, 
not venturing to linger now, ran side by side with 
the swiftest of her rivals until the goal was within 
a spear’s length, when she leaped forward as if the 
wind had lifted her, crossing at one bound; while 
the other, crimson and gasping, stumbled in a full 
pace behind — so distressed that she would have 
fallen had not the flushed victor turned to support 
her. Again the voice of the multitude went up in 
cheers for Gorgo. 

“ How now, young wrestler? ” sneered the Spar- 
tan in my ear. “ You Athenians were swift of foot 
at Delium ; perhaps you would even race with 
these? ” 

“ I would match with Gorgo for Atalanta’s 
prize,” I answered, boldly, “ but not without golden 
apples.” 

He scowled; I perceived that somehow my ran- 
dom words had hit home. 

“ I like not these shows of well-born women,” said 


G O R G O 


134 

my father. “ Your boast is empty, Rhyzon ; you know 
that this thing cannot be. Yet the boy, too, is swift, 
and he shall not be taunted. If it were not un- 
seemly, I would back him for a talent.” 

“ You jest,” said the Spartan. 

“ I was hasty,” smiled my ather. “ I had forgot 
that the sons of Lycurgus care nothing for money.” 

The Spartan laughed aloud, then glanced hastily 
about him; we were standing somewhat apart. 
“ Athenian,” said he, stepping closer, “ of all the 
idle tales that are told in the name of Lycurgus, this 
is the most absurd, that we of Sparta know not 
the uses of money. Show me the house that has 
no hoard beneath its hearthstone, and I will show 
you the home of a fool. That talent of yours would 
serve me well ; but in public — you say true, it can- 
not be.” 

“ But have you none of that money made of iron 
and hardened in vinegar?” I asked. 

“ A peck of meal may be bought with it,” he 
answered. 

“ And the sack goes to market heavier than it 
returns,” added my father. 

“ Gold alone buys power, and gold alone buys 
safety,” muttered Rhyzon. “ Come.” 

“ Are there no more contests ? ” I asked. 

“ Not for you, wrestler,” he answered, shortly. 
“ Come: will you wait for the doggers?” 

I cast a long look at Gorgo, who now stood 
waving the palm branch of victory; then turned, 
reluctantly enough. 


G O R G O 


135 

“ Cherish no idle fancies, dreamer,” whispered my 
father as we passed on. 

“ What do you mean ? ” I asked him ; but he did 
not explain. 

The house to which Rhyzon conducted us stood 
in a wide yard girt with a wall. It was large but 
low, built of rough-hewn timbers ashen with age. 

“ It was standing in the time of Charilaus, and 
Alcander dwelt in it,” announced the Spartan, rather 
pompously. “Few strangers have loosed their 
sandals at its door.” 

“ Hospitality is not a Spartan vice,” remarked 
my father. 

“ I will not say that you are welcome,” he re- 
torted bluntly. “ But enter : you shall have the 
best in a plain house.” 

Once inside, it struck me that this plainness was 
largely affectation. The walls, indeed, were as 
rough within as without; but the furnishings were 
not altogether such as coins of iron would purchase, 
— a half-barbarous mingling of the rude and the 
costly. 

“ My brother has been much abroad and brought 
home a brood of follies,” grumbled Rhyzon, with 
uneasy glances. 

“ Including Gorgo? ” ventured my father. 

“ The tongue that says it shall be torn from its 
rootage,” cried the Spartan, fiercely. “ Repeat it 
not, Athenian. She was born abroad, but the blood 
is pure.” Then his lips were locked like a miser's 
chest. 


G O R G O 


136 

“ Enough, Rhyzon,” said my father, soothingly. 
“ I am rightly rebuked, and the more to blame be- 
cause I have seen the proof. For who but a Spartan 
born could contend with the maids of Sparta, and 
vanquish all, as did Gorgo to-day ? ” 

The old man’s face was still purple, but he turned 
from us to the grim-faced helots in waiting. 

“ Tables and couches,” he shouted, harshly, “ and 
he who lags races with the lash.” 

The two men reclined, but I sat upright beside 
my father. “ Come,” said the Spartan, unbending 
a little, “ this is better. I had heard that your up- 
start boys would make no scruple to lie down before 
their elders. The son of Hagnon is better bred.” 

“ It is not of Sparta alone that fables are told,” 
responded my father. 

The sun had set and the hall was dark, but helots 
with lighted torches stood behind us. The supper 
was coarse but hearty, with an unexpected abun- 
dance of wine, of which our host drank freely. His 
face flamed as he discussed old campaigns and told 
rude stories of the camp, and even my father’s 
tongue grew looser than was its wont. Of this, I 
suppose, he presently became conscious, for he 
stopped in the midst of a tale of sack and pillage, 
and bade me retire. 

“ Aye, lead the lad to his chamber,” said Rhyzon, 
rolling on his couch. “ And make soft his bed in 
the place I bade you,” he snorted, with a laugh. 
“ The old men of Sparta do not pillow their heads 


G O R G O 


137 

upon a stone, and these ambassadors must have the 
privilege of age.” 

A torch-bearer went before me, crossing an open 
court. The room into which I was ushered, though 
like all the rest in ruggedness of construction, was 
hung with tapestry and rather daintily furnished. 
A brazen mirror hung on the wall; I knew in a 
moment that this was some part of the women’s 
quarters, and I the victim of a Spartan jest. 
Further inspection disclosed a Persian collar and 
bracelets. I turned in anger; the helot grinned, 
but would not let me pass. I was helpless ; and the 
bed, at least, was inviting, piled high on the planks. 
I flung myself upon it, sinking deep in the clean, 
sweet linen, while the fellow bolted the door and 
departed. 

I was soon very drowsy, yet found my fancy too 
busy for slumber, and for a long time lay awake 
gazing at dreams. That was no new experience, but 
an old plague of my childhood; it had abated some- 
what, but I still dreaded its recurrent seasons. For 
I lay like one under a spell, and whether I closed 
my eyes or held them wide open, all manner of 
gleaming figures streamed across the darkness, — 
terrible, beautiful, familiar, fantastic, in ceaseless 
procession. My mother smiled from her shroud; 
my grandfather glared from his chair, and women 
raved beside corpses; the eyes of Alcibiades glit- 
tered amid the lamps; and the Syrian came, and 
the Nubian with his lantern, and the homely face 
of Socrates blotted out both. And over these spec- 


G O R G O 


138 

tral shapes I had no control ; they flushed and faded 
as boding lights dance in the northern sky. 

But that night they were changed; and chiefly 
the maids of Sparta raced on the dusky horizon, with 
Gorgo ever in the lead. Then, as I lost my sense of 
place, I too was racing ; she turned, with a mocking 
laugh ; her face came so close that it filled my sight, 
yet I saw nothing clearly — and suddenly I was sit- 
ting with outstretched arms in darkness and silence. 
Yet I could have sworn that I heard her. Some 
voice I certainly heard, between sleeping and wak- 
ing, — rippling forth with a brook-like gurgle of 
laughter not far away. 

I had intended to insist on a change of quarters ; 
but in the morning, although the Spartan eyed me 
curiously and let fly an ambiguous scoff, I made 
no reference to the matter. Instead, I watched 
eagerly for Gorgo, and caught one glimpse as she 
flitted across the courtyard like a sun-flash from a 
broken cloud. Then, for three days, nothing. It 
was not until our stay was almost ended that I 
finally met her, face to face. 

On the morning of the day before our departure 
my father called me aside. Our mission, he told me, 
had ended only in postponements, like all the rest. 
Then he hesitated. 

“ We have been drinking a good deal of late,” 
he said, at length. “ This Spartan wine is hotter 
than ours. You will do well, my son, to drink spar- 
ingly of it.” 


G O R G O 


139 

“Yes,” I answered. “I do not care for the 
wine.” 

“ This Rhyzon,” he went on, in an embarrassed 
way, “ drinks like a sand-pit and shows it as little. 
He is a strange fellow, and very avaricious. He 
insists that I have wagered with him to match you 
against Gorgo, for a talent.” 

“ I will meet her,” I said. 

“ I do not like it,” continued my father, uneasily ; 
“ but he declares that I swore by the shrine of Apollo. 
I shall be more heedful hereafter.” 

“ I shall win,” I cried. For I made sure the 
laugh would be mine this time, and it pleased me 
to think of wresting silver from the surly Spartan. 

“ It is not so much the talent that I care for,” 
explained my father, “ though it is a great sum to 
cast upon the sand. But the whole affair is un- 
seemly. If you win, it is not a thing to boast of, 
and defeat is disgraceful.” 

“ I shall win,” I repeated. 

“ Well, it will never be heard of in Athens — nor 
elsewhere. Rhyzon will not be so rash as to mention 
it, nor shall we. So unless this girl — ” 

“ Gorgo will never tell,” I announced, positively. 

“ Have you had words with her ? ” he asked, 
sternly. 

“ No,” I answered, — but blushed. “ When do 
we race? ” 

“ The match will be made to-day, toward even- 
ing. It is not to be a race, after all ; that would be 
too public. Besides, the Spartan wishes to see you 


140 


G O R G O 


beaten at your best, and you remember what you 
told him. However,” he added, hastily, “ it will 
be civilly managed.” 

I stared. “ I have cast Myron six paces backward 
over my shoulder,” I exclaimed. “ I would not 
harm her ! ” 

“ It is merely this. Whichever of the two is first 
brought to the knee or forced back across a line is 
vanquished. Do not be too confident, son; that 
folly is the bane of Athens. These Spartans are 
shrewder with their hands than with their heads, 
and even the girl may have arts that are new to 
you.” 

“ She shall kneel at my feet.” Already I seemed 
to see her so, and the picture was marvellously 
attractive. Her good uncle should see it. 

It was late in the afternoon when we finally faced 
each other in the courtyard, my father and Rhyzon 
the only spectators. The gates were locked; the 
helots, after drawing the circle of ashes within which 
we stood, had been dismissed. Gorgo — but neither 
words nor wax can ever paint Gorgo. Her dress 
was the same as at the race-course, and shining 
white. Her feet were bare, and her arms, — which 
did not look very formidable, though the muscles 
swelled in soft curves. Her dark brown hair was 
twined in a massive coil, with loose tendrils flying. 
And her face — I looked once in her eyes, then 
dropped mine in a dazzle of rosy flame and violet 
sparkles. At that moment I hated her, for I felt that 
I was lost; who could contend with living fire? 


G O R G O 


141 

I glanced at my father: it was not at me that he 
was looking, but at Gorgo. The Spartan was shak- 
ing with laughter. 

“ Well, Athenian boy,” she said, her red lips 
pouting a little, “ is it so you do at Athens ? Aren’t 
you going to look at me ? When you meet an enemy 
do you fight without looking? ” 

I had again lifted my gaze for an instant, but 
dropped it hastily with a sense of hot sunshine beat- 
ing upon my brow; and though I felt myself very 
bitterly her enemy, the word from her lips hurt me. 
I stood in the midst O'f the court like a stony 
Hermes, without a syllable, while her voice flowed 
on in the mellow Dorian. 

“ My uncle told me that you were a terrible 
fighter. I thought you’d be ever so big, and dread- 
fully ugly. But you’re not either one.” I felt her 
look roaming over me with critical approval. The 
Spartan was frowning, but she gave not the small- 
est heed. “ You are rather good-looking for a 
boy,” she remarked, “ if you were not so stupid. I 
don’t believe you can fight at all, but I thought that 
any Athenian could talk.” 

“ The girl can do nothing else,” exclaimed my 
father. 

“If the stripling will not contend, I claim the 
wager as forfeit,” growled Rhyzon. 

“ I pay no silver for magpie chatter,” retorted 
my father — “ yet the sight of her is perhaps worth 
a talent. But, Hercules! begin quickly, my son; 
you discredit me.” 


142 


G O R G O 


But it was Gorgo who made the beginning. “ I 
could have taken you twenty times at unawares,” she 
cried. “ See! ” Her swift hand smote my cheek. 
“ Twenty times I could have flung you from the 
circle; and you would have lain a long time, very 
still. And now they sneer because I spare you. 
Boy, with the sulky eyes and folded arms, — you 
shame me, boy.” And again her scornful fingers 
stung my cheek. 

Then anger burned away the spell. “ You shall 
kneel for that,” I shouted, and sprang to seize her; 
but her lithe arms cast me off at every turn. I 
could as easily have grasped the jet of a fountain; 
she but sported with my efforts. Conscious of this, 
I grew wary, feigning awkwardness to put her 
the more off guard; until at last, in sheer bravado, 
she clasped her hands above her head, and the same 
mocking laugh that had floated through the dark- 
ness warbled in her throat. 

“ Catch me, boy, if you can,” she dared me. 

In an instant my arms were locked about her. 
Her elbows dropped against my shoulders ; her 
hands were upon my cheeks; for a long breath we 
both exerted all our force. Then the stark strain 
relaxed. She lay on my heart quite unresisting, and 
her arms slid helplessly about my neck. 

“ Oh ! ” she sighed, “ you are strong.” And her 
warm breath poured against my throat. 

“ Now! ” called my father, shaken from his usual 
calm. 

She raised her head, which had sunk upon my 


G O R G O 


143 

shoulder. My eyes lost themselves in hers ; my 
sinews slackened. A quick shift brought her hands 
beneath my chin ; with an upward thrust she sprang 
free. In a flash, as I reeled, she had caught my lifted 
fingers, and turning shut my arm beneath her own. 
She looked back at me over her shoulder with the 
smile of Aurora. 

“ Sulky boy, you are mine,” she cried. “ Kneel, 
boy; it is yours to kneel.” 

Unconscious of my plight, I almost laughed aloud, 
her boast that the battle was ended seemed so absurd. 
With both hands she had pinioned a single arm, 
while the other — I made a movement, but checked 
with a gasp of pain. 

“ Kneel, boy,” she repeated ; and though she bore 
down but lightly on my straining elbow, tendons 
and ligaments could bear no more. I sunk to my 
knees like a horse reined in with the curb. 

“ I’ve won,” she proclaimed. “ Athenian boy, 
I’ve won.” 

“ Gorgo has won,” echoed both the men. 

I am no Spartan. A tear of the bitterest brine 
straggled down my cheek. Another followed. She 
bent toward me ; I was still upon my knees. 

“ I’m sorry, boy,” she said, very softly. “ Don’t 
— they will laugh. It seems so queer that you cry. 
Is it just because you had to kneel? Well, then — 
we’ll make that even. There ! ” 

Impetuous Gorgo ! She dropped on her knees 
and kissed away my tear — then leaped up like a 
crimson flame. It was swift as a gleam from 


i 4 4 


G O R G O 


Athena’s aegis ; but they saw it. Her uncle rent the 
air with an oath. My father stared and laughed. 

“ Be still, wager-maker,” he said — “ you shall 
not trouble them. The lad has need of comfort; 
and that kiss, belike, was as sweet to him as the 
glitter of gold to thee. Remember, they are but 
children ; they will not meet again, — and that, 
doubtless, is well.” 

Again her kinsman cursed. 

“Listen!” My father spoke sharply. “You 
have seen the lad vanquished and weeping; I have 
seen him kissed by the fairest maid in Sparta, — the 
son of Hagnon by the daughter of Brasidas ! Shall 
the pretty tale be told? Would you have it sung 
at the wine in Athens? Enough! Blow no more 
blasts from your throat, but bring scales, and we 
will tell out the coin while daylight serves.” 

The scales were brought, and a table. 

“ Six thousand drachmas ! ” muttered my father, 
opening the bag. “ It is the price of a chariot and 
a full team, koppa-marked ; I have been more reck- 
less than Alcibiades himself. But, Spartan, your 
maids undo your wagers.” He glanced toward 
Gorgo. “ By the heavenly Eros, she has given him 
better than a talent. Rhyzon, the silver is yours, 
twice over.” 


XII. 

The Daughter of Brasidas 

T HE men sat on a bench just under the porch, 
wholly absorbed in the weighing of the 
silver; Rhyzon biting a coin now and then, 
or ringing it on a slab of stone. I had risen now, 
and we were standing face to face, — Gorgo and 
I. She glowed like a rose in the sun, while I, more 
at my ease, gazed with the blunt admiration of boy- 
hood. Indeed, the tables were turned. For a mo- 
ment her eyes bore up against mine; then the long, 
dark lashes fell. A little smile dimpled at the cor- 
ners of her mouth, like the curling volutes of an 
Ionic capital. She clapped her hands over her face. 

“ Oh ! ” she cried, “ I wouldn’t ever have done it 
— only I was sorry. I never did that before for 
anybody. But I’d hurt you and I felt so sorry.” 

“ It was good,” I said, gulping a little but con- 
strained by the truth. 

“Was it?” She let fall her hands. “ You puck- 
ered your face like a baby, Athenian boy.” 

“ Your uncle was vexed,” I remarked, with super- 
fluous awkwardness. 

Again she peered through the veil of her fingers, 
145 


G O R G O 


146 

but rather saucily now. “ It isn’t that I care about 
my uncle. He always scolds, and I always do just 
as I please. But I oughtn’t to have done that.” 

“ It was good,” I repeated. This fact had sur- 
prised me greatly, and I felt she had a right to 
know. “ Take down your hands, Gorgo.” 

She kept them up. “ I wasn’t meaning to make 
you kneel,” she explained. “ At first I meant to, 
but after you caught me I was going to let you win. 
Don’t you know it, boy ? Then your father shouted 

— and all at once it seemed as if I must make you 
kneel. It was just a trick ; you are ever so much the 
strongest.” 

“ It was a wager ; it wouldn’t be honest not to 
win if you could. I don’t mind any more about 
the kneeling. Take away your hands; it’s silly 
to behave like that.” 

The pink clouds parted a little, but closed again. 
“You mustn’t think it was because I liked you the 
least bit,” she protested, needlessly. 

I reflected — for the first time since meeting her. 
The rules of interpretation for boys didn’t seem to 
apply. “You mean you do like me,” I exclaimed. 
“ You can’t say you don’t; you just say I mustn’t 
think so. You like me, Gorgo. If you don't, say 
you don’t.” 

“ Oh, that’s not fair,” she cried, in angry panic, 
half wheeling. “ I can say it. I — maybe I did 

— a little — but I don’t now.” 

“ You like me,” I insisted, with a wonderful sense 
of triumph, though I didn’t at all understand it. 


G O R G O 


147 

‘'Why do you act so? Put down your hands; I 
want to see you.” 

“ Why would I put them down? You wouldn’t 
look at me a while ago. You must have thought 
I was Medusa. There, then ! — ” and she flooded 
me with her rosy light. 

The spell of Medusa can never have equalled 
Gorgo’s; but Gorgo melted, while Medusa froze. 
Like Semele, I had asked my own undoing. The 
odds were as suddenly turned as in our combat. 

“ You are the loveliest that ever was,” I stam- 
mered. “ I didn’t know girls could be like you.” 

She clapped her hands. “ They all talk like 
that,” she said; “the old men, the women, — 
everybody. ‘ Our Gorgo,’ they say, ‘ will be like 
our Helen ’ — she was Spartan, too, you know. 
Then they shake their heads. I’m as tired of hear- 
ing that I’m pretty as if it wasn’t true.” 

“ But it is true. You are lovelier than Alcibiades. 
I thought he was handsomer than anybody ; but he 
isn’t.” 

“ Oh, yes ! It’s true, of course. Do you mean 
that Alcibiades — I won’t say what I was going to. 
Whatever else you’ve got, I don’t think you’ve 
got good wit, Athenian boy. But your Athens must 
be a wonderful place.” 

“ I think Sparta is more wonderful ; but I’d rather 
live in Athens. I wish you lived there.” 

“ I believe I would like to,” said she. “ But, boy, 
if I lived in Athens your city would not long be 
free. Do you not know that my father is Brasidas ? ” 


148 G O R G O 

“ I like a man who is quick and clever and can 
fight,” I answered. 

“ Well, the men here can fight, but they’re mostly 
dull. I don’t like that old Lycurgus of theirs, nor 
his laws. He had only one eye, and he couldn’t 
see everything.” 

“ That’s just what your uncle said to my father.” 

She glanced toward the men. A wine-flask lay 
between them now, but Rhyzon was still eagerly 
fingering my father’s coin, testing every piece. 

“ The Ephors have two eyes,” she said, “ and if 
once they saw him — ” 

“ They would kill him ? ” 

“ They would make him divide, — and oh, how 
he would hate to! My father isn’t a bit like him, 
and my mother was still more different. She liked 
gold, though, but only for jewels. I like it that 
way, too,” she confessed, with an air that savoured 
of defiance. 

“ You ought to have it that way, then — lots of 
it. You’ve a right to, if anybody has.” 

She looked pleased. “ You are not a Spartan,” she 
said, “ and you don’t care about Lycurgus either. 
I forgot. But here they keep vexing me always, 
just because I’m so pretty and like pretty things. 
It is hardly worth while to be pretty here in Sparta.” 

She was vain, perhaps, but she spoke of her 
beauty with perfect simplicity. The fact was so 
obvious; why should she feign? 

“I’m not saying that I’d want to be anything 
else,” she added, hastily. “ But they trouble me 


G O R G O 


149 

so — even boys. The worst is the one they call 
Lysander. He can do almost anything, but he’s 
a dreadful boy, and he swears he’ll make me marry 
him some day whether I want to or not. He’s not a 
pure Spartan, either, — just what we call a mothax, 
and that means slave blood. I hate him — oh, how 
I hate him! But he’s the one I’m afraid of.” 

“ He never shall have you.” And I swelled with 
sudden anger. 

“ Indeed, he shall not; but I don’t see how you 
could stop him. He’s a terrible enemy — so strong 
and fierce and crafty. He swears that he’ll have 
your Athens, too. I’d like my father to take it, but 
I don’t want him to have it.” 

“ I shall meet him,” I cried. “ Gorgo, he is our 
enemy, yours and mine.” And I was glad that at 
least we had a common enemy. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ but don’t try to meet him.” 
She went on, hurriedly : “ He’s the worst, but he 
isn’t the only one that plagues me. There’s an- 
other — my own cousin, too — that stole a cheese 
and wanted to give me half.” She laughed, and 
so did I. “ My uncle beat him. I don’t like cheese 
anyway — nor boys.” 

“ I don’t like the cheeses you have here,” I 
admitted, frankly. “ Nor the broth; but I like you 
better than any girl or any boy.” 

She looked relieved. “ Well,” she exclaimed, 
“ I should think it was time you said that. I 
thought I’d never forgive you for making me say 


,G O R G O 


150 

it first. It was true, though ; I simply couldn’t say 
right out that I didn’t like you.” 

“ You said you didn’t like boys.” 

“ I don’t like boys,” she declared, speaking very 
precisely, “ but perhaps there’s one boy that I like 
— just a little. Isn’t it strange, when we have to 
be enemies, that we really like each other ? ” 

“ They call you like Helen,” I ventured, “ and 
Helen ran away with an enemy.” 

“ You don’t think ” — she began. “ Wouldn’t 
it be fun, though ! ” she concluded, again clapping 
her hands. 

The men looked up, but we were still standing 
just as they left us, almost a spear’s length apart. 
They resumed their counting and drinking. 

“ I’m not quite like Helen,” she resumed. “ I 
might run from Ly sander, but I’d have stayed with 
the good Menelaus. I wouldn’t have run away with 
Paris.” 

“ I’m not in the least like Paris,” I protested, 
resentfully. “ I didn’t mean that.” 

“ Yet he was the handsomest man in all the 
world,” quoth she, with her eyes on my sandals. 

“ He was a rogue.” 

“ And you — are not you an Athenian ? ” 

“If you were a boy — but you are like the beau- 
tiful Athena in the new temple,” I ended. 

She laughed out like sweet water falling in a 
fountain. “ Am I so ? ” she said. “ I am glad, 
for I like Athena the best of all.” Then her voice 


G O R G O 


1 5 i 

fell. “ You mustn’t say such things,” she whis- 
pered. “ The goddess will be angry.” 

“ She will not be angry,” I answered. 

And at that Gorgo lifted her eyes, full against 
mine. I could think of nothing but sunshine and 
roses. “ If I am to be your Athena,” she said, 
softly, “ we can never again be enemies, you brave, 
sweet boy, no matter what these foolisli cities do.” 

“ No,” I repeated after her, “ we cannot be ene- 
mies; we can never be enemies, Gorgo.” And I 
tried to say more but could not, for the words 
seemed too heavy to lift out of my throat. 

She shot a quick glance in my face, then looked 
down ; and she spoke very fast, like an orator when 
the water-clock is almost empty. “We shall have 
to be friends, then, forever ; yes, boy, forever 
and ever. And I’m glad we’re to be such good 
friends. For what I was weary of hearing from all 
the rest I love to hear from you. And I wish you 
could see me dressed in the Ionian fashion, with all 
the beautiful ornaments of my mother, that came 
from Ephesus ; for then you might think that I was 
like the goddess indeed. But it isn’t thought seemly 
to wear such things in Sparta ; so I only put them 
on now and then in my chamber. Now listen, 
Athenian boy. For you are only a boy, and I am 
just a girl ; but that will soon be past. Already the 
women vex me every day, and keep saying, ‘ Our 
Gorgo will soon be of age to marry,’ and 4 Our 
Gorgo must make a great marriage.’ I know they 
will try before long to betroth me to some old man 


G O R G O 


152 

who has been an Ephor, or to some stupid boy 
who hunts foxes and steals cheese, but belongs, per- 
haps, to the house of Procles. I don’t wish to 
marry; but if I must, I’m sure I’d like best to be 
married to you. I don’t believe I could marry any- 
body else. Only you must come and ask — or at 
least come and take me — when I am ready.” 

Then I stepped nearer, glancing over my shoulder 
at the men. “ Gorgo,” I said “ O Gorgo,” — and 
her queer Spartan name clung like honey on my 
tongue, — “ do you truly promise, and will you 
swear ? ” 

“ Yes,” she answered, “ I swear it by your 
Athena and ours; and so may I still be like her, 
and breaking my promise may I become like Me- 
dusa. There — is not that enough ? ” Once more 
she laughed, but the tinkle in her laugh was gone. 
“ Truly there was no need to make me swear. I 
rather like your being an Athenian, for my mother 
was of the blood of Ion — though my uncle swears 
it is not so. And I don’t feel as I did about marry- 
ing.” Her voice had sunk to a murmur; though 
she held aloof, it was as if our cheeks had touched. 
“ But remember this, Athenian boy. You will go 
to your home and perhaps forget; you have not 
sworn. But if you find that you don’t forget — 
if you really want me — you must come to me 
quickly when I call. O boy from a stranger city, 
how can we ever meet? All our friends are ene- 
mies ! all the world will be against us ! ” 

I had stood motionless and dumb, thrilling with 


G O R G O 


153 

exultation, yet half-dismayed. — this thought of 
marrying was so new to me. But now my heart 
gave a throb like the heave of a great horse stum- 
bling beneath his rider. “Hear me, Gorgo! Did 
I not swear ? I swear by the gods who look down 
from the sky and the gods who reign in the dark- 
ness below : when you call I will come, though 
mountains and storm and battle lie between us ; and 
no Athenian shall hold me back, and no Spartan 
shall stop me.” 

She paled a little, as if my tone frightened her; 
yet her eyes met mine with a sort of terrified glad- 
ness, and a look that was beyond all vows. “ Do 
not boast,” she whispered — for I was very near 
her now — “do not boast nor swear by the gods 
as if you defied them, or they will grow jealous; 
and it is hard to fight against the gods. We shall 
need their aid, I think : I shall pray to them every 
day to help us. And I will wait, even though it 
be for always. They shall marry me to no other; 
and when it is time I will surely call you.” 

Then I forgot myself utterly, and strove to take 
her in my arms; but she pushed me back with a 
movement as soft and resistless as when the sea- 
swell tosses a boat. The men, who had finished 
their tale of the silver, were looking straight at us. 
Both were flushed, and the leather flask lay flat. 
Rhyzon reared heavily, and strode toward me with 
uneven steps; his thick staff was lifted to strike. 
But Gorgo with an arrowy rush caught his wrist, 
and my father thrust his tall form between us. 


G O R G O 


154 

“ Spartan,” he said — and the clang of brass 
was in his voice — “you had best leave the dis- 
cipline of my son to me. I do not depute it to 
others.” 

“ But the cub grows wanton with my brother’s 
child,” snarled the old taxiarch. 

“ Whether the boy was wanton, or the girl, or 
both, I cannot say,” answered my father, still in 
the tones of battle, “ for your Spartan Amazons 
and their fashions are something strange tO' me. 
But it is well for you, Rhyzon, that your cudgel 
hung in mid-air, for had it reached the shoulders 
of my son the voice of one railer against the peace 
might perchance have been silenced.” And his 
fingers twitched as they clung on his sword-hilt. 

“ Then might Athens send us a second embassy 
to ask burial for the first,” sneered Rhyzon. 

“ They would carry back ill tidings for the 
hundred and odd noble Spartans who still, in de- 
spite of the laws of Lycurgus, eat bread in the city 
of their captors,” retorted my father. “ Is not 
your own son among them, Rhyzon ? ” 

“ They had better have died,” growled the Spar- 
tan; but he lowered his staff. 

“ Among those idle tales that are told of Sparta,” 
said my father, smiling as he glanced at the heaped- 
up coin, “ is doubtless this, that your sons will 
die but not yield. It is but a slander; they are not 
less wise than others. Come, this wine of yours 
is mixed too strong, and we grow forgetful.” 

The old man looked at me and laughed. “ Let 


G O R G O 


155 

it pass then. The young wrestler is harmless; our 
Gorgo can subdue him with a wave of the hand. 
Has she not proved it — and to your cost ? The 
wine indeed makes us forgetful.” 

“ It appears to me,” said my father, “ that she 
can subdue him by the glance of her eyes alone. 
In good truth, she is fair beyond all others, and 
even though he sought more of her kisses the boy 
must be forgiven. But of your wine, Rhyzon, we 
have had too much or too little. It has made you 
forget that we are guests ; more will make us forget 
that we are enemies.” 

We passed in. The Spartan, trusting no helot 
with his treasure, vanished but soon returned. A 
great bowl was mixed, tempered with snow from 
Taygetus, and the odd-looking earthen cups, that 
held back the lees, were filled many times. “ Even 
the water from a puddle is good from a Spartan 
cup,” said Rhyzon. “ Athenian, you have well paid 
your score; drink a talent’s worth if you can.” 

Of Gorgo I saw no> more that evening — or 
rather, I saw nothing else all night; for again I 
lay restless, gazing upon the painted darkness, see- 
ing, not visions, but a vision. There was now but 
one. 

Ajnd when morning came I had a vision of her 
very self, brief as a sun-flash on the ripples, yet 
remembered like the face that bends over us in 
babyhood. I was crossing the courtyard : a whis- 
per fell and I turned. A small round window 
opened from an upper chamber, and from its edge, 


G O R G O 


156 

like the moon not quite at full, peeped the face of 
Gorgo. Jewels flashed from her brow and her 
neck, and sparkled through her hair; a great circle 
of pearls lustred against her cheek; she had put 
on all for me. She blushed like the dawn upon the 
mountain snow, and was gone ; but a bracelet, warm 
from her wrist, dropped at my feet. “ Keep it for 
me, boy,” she murmured — “ my boy ” — out of 
the shadow. 

A moment later I was with my father. Our 
horses were at the gate, and we rode forth from 
the streets of Sparta. The whole sky was now 
blushing, like Gorgo; the perfume of spring was 
in my nostrils, its riot in my blood. 

“ Just hear the birds singing! ” 

My father looked at me doubtfully. “ I was 
better pleased to hear the crowing of the cocks,” he 
said. Then, with slow emphasis — “ The birds, 
my son, are but a frivolous and flighty matter, and 
their speech is but chatter. Listen not to the birds. 
But if, being young, you must, listen to the Attic 
birds, not these.” 


XIII. 


A School of War 

W E had returned with all possible haste, and 
reached Athens just in time for the great 
spring carnival. The city — nothing was 
changed, yet it seemed unfamiliar, as if we had 
been away for a period of years, I felt much older ; 
and I was older. 

The pearls that had once encircled Gorgo’s wrist 
I kept ever near me, but showed them to no one, 
— not even to Thrasybulus. He cared little for 
girls ; and Critias, when he spoke of them, vexed 

me. 

On the day of the grand procession I watched the 
maidens with new interest, as they paced by with 
slow and stately grace, bearing high their baskets. 
Pale-cheeked, still-eyed, and voiceless, they seemed 
in no way different from the carvings on Athena’s 
temple, — beautiful, undoubtedly, but I would just 
as soon have looked upon the marble. 

“ This is flat,” said Thrasybulus, at my elbow, 
“ and I don’t care much for that dithyrambic busi- 
ness, either. But to-morrow the plays begin. The 
comedies are all sorts of fun. Let’s go. They say 
iS7 


G O R G O 


158 

there’s going to be a good one by Aristophanes, — 
the fellow that gave Cleon such a ripping-up last 
year. He’s after Socrates now, — the snub-nosed 
man, that plagues people with questions and puzzles 
the sophists.” 

“ He’s a good man,” I protested, “ and wiser than 
any of them.” 

“ Good soldier,” assented Thrasybulus, lightly, 
“ but not wise enough to mind his own business. 
All the more fun, if you know him. Let’s go. Got 
an obol? I’ve three.” 

“ I can’t go ; my father won’t let me see come- 
dies.” 

“That’s just a caning; what of it?” 

“ When he’s angry it’s his tongue he strikes with, 
not a cane; but it hurts worse than even those 
limber ones that come down with a squish.” 

That evening, however, my father himself pro- 
posed this very thing, and gave me the money. 

We started before sunrise, Thrasybulus and I, 
to get good seats, yet found ourselves crowded far 
back and rather too near the side wall. Already 
the dusky hollow was filling fast and hummed with 
voices. Then, as the sky grew brighter, great bas- 
kets of gold and silver were brought to the centre 
of the orchestra, and poured out in shining heaps 
beside the altar. 

“ Tribute,” said Thrasybulus, tersely. “ Five 
hundred and sixty talents, this year.” 

Then the crowns of honour were announced by 
the herald and laid beside the treasure. I almost 


G O R G O 


1 59 

leaped from my seat with delight to hear one pro- 
claimed for my father, — “ for his good will and 
good service, and because he contributed all the 
expenses of the embassy and has asked no account- 
ing.” 

At last, when these and other ceremonies were 
concluded, the trumpet sounded, the doors of the 
palace of Priam flew open, and the plays began. 
I do not remember very clearly about the tragedies. 
Those presented that day were the “ Arrow of 
Paris,” the “ Pyrrhus,” and the “ Sack of Troy,” 
with the “ Horse ” for an afterpiece. They all 
seemed intended to magnify the horrors of war, and 
I found the sentiments rather dull. But the splen- 
did declamation of the actors, ringing to the very 
limits of the theatre, pleased my ear ; and their huge 
masked figures — grouped as if Phidias himself 
had ranged them, yet ever shifting to some new 
pose — held fast my eyes. Better still was the 
chorus of Trojan soldiers, which marched in with 
sounding foot-beats in perfect time, chanting a 
psean. The melody of their full-toned Doric bore 
me away to Sparta; and I angrily kicked the back 
of a cobbler who sat in front of me chattering about 
the price of corn. The spectators in general were 
none too attentive. Now and then they applauded 
a little, but spent much of their time nibbling cakes 
and fruit. Yet a sudden flurry of snow that whi- 
tened the air and chilled our cheeks drove not one 
from his seat. The actors never paused, and before 


i6o 


G O R G O 


the second play was finished the sun was beating 
down upon us as warm as summer. 

It was deep in the afternoon when the “ Clouds ” 
of Aristophanes was called, — no such comedy then 
as that given out by its author the following year, 
but far more offensive. I was disappointed from 
the first. The vile little distortions who now flung 
antics where the sombre gods and heroes of tragedy 
had just been stalking did not attract me, and as 
the foul mud of carnival license was daubed over 
a made-up thing called Socrates, my indignation 
burned. 

“ That’s a pretty good hit,” commented Thrasy- 
bulus. It was the passage about measuring flea- 
tracks. 

“ You don’t know him,” I cried. “ It is the steps 
of the soul that he measures. And they laugh him 
to scorn, and accuse him of everything stupid and 
vile ! ” I almost wept with vexation. 

“ Well, this isn’t a law court,” retorted Thrasy- 
bulus. 

But in fact the laughter was not very hearty. 
Even the irrepressible cobbler shook his head. “ Yon 
Socrates came to my shop one day,” he muttered, 
confidentially. “ He talked with me about my 
trade. He’s no fool, like that. I’ve got on better 
ever since.” 

Ranker and ranker grew the orgy of the actors; 
and I know, from words uttered long afterward, 
that Socrates was cruelly hurt. It is so hard to 
live down a clever caricature, no matter how false! 


G O R G O 


1 6 1 


He was not the man to harbour resentment, but to 
his dying hour he felt the crippling of this wanton 
injury. 

Yet, for the day at least, he turned the insult 
into triumph. The scene in the “ thinking-factory ” 
had been reached, and the mimic Socrates, perched 
in his swinging basket, was bawling : — 

I walk on the air, and take good care of the sun in heaven — 

A murmur arose. A ripple of movement ran 
through the audience as when water is struck by 
a sudden gust ; in an instant all eyes were turned 
from the wretched parody. Far up in the theatre, in 
the part where the seats are cut in the living rock, 
the true Socrates had risen to his feet. For a mo- 
ment he stood alone, in silent protest, looking about 
him with that serenity which nothing could disturb. 
Then Alcibiades, who had striven to hold him down, 
rose beside him with defiant glances. Critobulus, 
scarcely less fair of face, sprang up also; old Crito 
rose, and little black Chaerephon, and ragged Antis- 
thenes, and many another. And at that we all rose 
with one motion, and turning our backs on the 
actors cheered for Socrates. 

The play went on after a little, but it was dead. 
Its failure, as everybody knows, was chiefly due to 
this act of Socrates; and finally old Cratinus, in 
spite of his purple nose, won the prize with his 
“ Wine-Flask.” Some of the judges, they say, were 
pledged to Aristophanes, but the “ Clouds ” got none 
of the ballots. 


162 


G O R G O 


This incident brought me again to the feet of 
Socrates, and from that time forth I was often 
in his company. My father was not greatly 
pleased at this. 

“ My son, you would do better to learn of the 
regular instructors.” 

“ They are useless. They can teach me nothing 
that I do not know already.” 

“ It is absurd,” he exclaimed. “ Since when are 
you become so wise?” 

“ It is not that I am wise; yet what I say is true. 
Consider, father. If I had never known — well, for 
example, what we call redness, could they teach 
me its nature ? ” 

“ No,” he said, presently, “ they could not teach 
that to a man born blind.” 

“ No more can they teach the colours of right 
and wrong to a soul that has never known them; 
nor of truth and of falsehood.” 

“ But how is Socrates any better? ” 

“ He alone can make the soul remember.” 

My father paused, so long that I feared he was 
offended. “ You have the best of it, lad,” he said, 
at last. “ Some new tricks of the tongue you have 
certainly learned — or, perchance, 4 remembered.’ 
Go, then, to your Socrates ; for if, like the youngster 
in the play, you return to beat your father, it will 
not be with a club, I think.” 

I thanked him. 

“ But, my son, along with your other remember- 
ings, remember this. These conceits of the sophists 


G O R G O 


163 

are like wine. A little may be taken with profit 
and makes keen the understanding, but they who 
take too much are made fools. You are not to 
infer,” he concluded, “ that I hear these quirks and 
phrases now for the first time, though I think but 
lightly of them.” 

So I joined the company that followed the great 
converse!* through the streets and markets, or drew 
around him with eager questionings under the 
porticos. Many a strutting sophist I saw tripped 
by his simple-seeming words, and many a citizen 
striding away in anger while we laughed in chorus. 
Others there were who did not refuse to know their 
own hearts, — who learned to love with supreme 
devotion the tongue that always asked for truth 
and the words that searched the soul as rain searches 
the soil. Few loved, and many hated, but all were 
astonished; the charm of his speech was such that 
even wounded pride came back to listen. So his 
fame went abroad; an oracle proclaimed his wis- 
dom; he was better known than Nicias or Alci- 
biades. Those who came to our city asked to be 
shown the way to Socrates no less than to the thea- 
tre and the temples. And I — although I have 
heard from his lips far more than has ever been 
recorded, to tell it is a task too heavy for me. Some 
little part I may — I must — essay hereafter. Not 
now. 

And of the events that were passing in those years 
I shall say but little, for as yet I had little share in 
them. They are all set down in the history writ- 


G O R G O 


164 

ten by surly Thucydides, — whom Cleon had ban- 
ished, not long before, for watching his gold mines 
so closely that he forgot to watch Amphipolis. So 
Brasidas stole a march — and the town at the end 
of it. And now Brasidas had fallen before that 
same Amphipolis ; and Cleon, too, victim of his own 
presumption. It was a strange turn of fate that has 
linked those names together : Cleon, the brawler, 
and Brasidas, the — to me, the father of Gorgo. I 
thought often of her grief. 

“ The fires are out,” said my father, when the 
news came. “ We shall have peace.” And the peace 
was soon made, Nicias getting much more credit 
than he deserved. Then Alcibiades tried his hand 
at politics, and of course there was fighting forth- 
with. He fretted the Spartans to madness with his 
tricks, and raced all over Peloponnesus making 
trouble. Our treaty, I believe, was to hold for fifty 
years ! I doubt that it held in strictness for as many 
days; and soon we had concluded another, quite 
at odds with it, allying ourselves with Argos. 
That was for a hundred years, I believe! and it 
lasted near a third as many months before it was 
interrupted — long enough to get the war well 
under way again, anyhow. 

Meanwhile my military training had begun; for 
of course I was to be a soldier. First I served with 
others of my age in the frontier forts, raiding over 
the mountains until my limbs were as hard as bone, 
and I could tramp all day under heavy arms yet 
charge at a full run for the finish. I learned to 


G O R G O 


165 

watch at night and march at dawn; to drink from 
a pool and eat what I could get; to sleep on the 
rocks, and love it better than a bed. Old Lamachus 
was our trainer, — mounted on a borrowed horse, 
too poor to own his boots, but a right good captain. 
He drilled us in phalanx, four deep, until we stepped 
and struck as one man, even on rough ground. 
He massed us in column .and made us charge full 
tilt against timber barricades, until we could drive 
our lances through heavy plank and endure the 
shock. He taught us to wheel, to reverse, to fall in 
or out, to open or close, until such acts became like 
an instinct. It was my father who trained me in 
horsemanship, but Lamachus made me a hoplite. 
The order of a sea-fight I learned later. 

After that I served under Alcibiades in Achaea 
and elsewhere. I was now eighteen, and had been 
in training about eighteen months. We mastered 
our trade quickly in those days, and young blood 
was oftenest spilled. Mantinea was my first pitched 
battle. 

Ours was a motley array, mostly Argives and 
Mantineans ; we of Athens numbered but a thousand 
hoplites, with a troop of horse. We stood massed 
on a rugged hill : it was madness to attack us there ; 
but King Agis was under heavy censures and eager 
to blot out his shame. Already the Spartan front 
was within a stone’s throw, and our lances quivered 
with expectation. Then the advancing column 
shook ; the pipes whistled discords ; we were so near 


G O R G O 


1 66 

that I knew the harsh voice of old Rhyzon as it 
broke forth from behind the wall of shields : 

“ King, will you heal one hurt by another? ” 

A murmur of passing signals ran through the 
line. They drew back, step by step ; they wheeled ; 
they were in full retreat. We almost burst from the 
ranks to rush upon them, but the officers held us in 
check. As the Spartans crossed the level field and 
passed from view, a loud outcry arose from among 
the Argives : our commanders were fools, cowards, 
traitors ! 

Surely the soldiers were right. One sharp charge 
down the slope and the enemy were routed — unless 
we lost our formation ! That was the danger. No, 
our generals were merely cautious, — but it was 
hard to bear. And caution is so often a capital 
mistake in war! 

It was evident now that the enemy would never 
meet us here, and the generals, cowed by clamour, 
led us into the plain below. All day and all night 
we stood under arms, but we saw no- Spartans. 
Then, as the mists were melting and the sun toiled 
up from behind the mountains, we suddenly saw 
them before us. But they were much more surprised 
than we. They were in marching order : they had 
no thought of finding us there. Yet there was no 
confusion; no panic. The pipes began to sound, 
and almost under our spears they fell into line 
like the pieces on a draught-board. I admired them 
then, as never before. 

We should have charged on the instant, but our 


G O R G O 


167 

officers, all along the front, wasted time in speeches. 
“For the ancient sovereignty of Argos ” — echoed 
in my ears from the right centre. “ Soldiers of 
Athens,” shouted our own Nicostratus, — standing 
so near his death, — “already you rule the sea; 
break the line before you and the land also is 
yours.” 

Even then the enemy’s phalanx was not fully 
closed. A gap showed in the part that faced the 
Mantineans, and two or three platoons were counter- 
marching in the rear. Whatever this movement 
meant it was never completed. We were close upon 
them, charging with a fury that tossed our dense 
array. I noted, too, that we had swerved to the 
right, so that they much outflanked us, for each 
man hugged the shelter of his neighbour’s shield; 
and the caution of Lamachus flashed through my 
mind, — always to aim a running charge somewhat 
leftward. 

Then shields and lances crashed, with a shock 
like the meeting of triremes. A splintering shaft 
gashed my cheek; a pike-head ground through my 
buckler and grided past my side; the man behind 
me shrieked. We hung straining, like bulls with 
locked horns. We were ranked eight deep — I in 
the second line — and the thrust from behind and 
before so shut the files that the rim of my shield 
was jammed against my throat and my body crushed 
into its hollow. The wounded man writhed on my 
shoulders but could not fall ; his blood flowed down 
my limbs ; and all the while I was gripping my spear 


G O R G O 


1 68 

like a vise, and felt its unseen point, ten feet distant, 
crunching on flesh. With a mighty impulse we 
surged forward, — then back ; we were losing 
ground. 

Cries of triumph were sounding from our Manti- 
neans on the right ; but for us there was no victory. 
The Argives next us were fleeing before the Spartan 
pikes; the flash of iron was on both our flanks. 
Then came the rattle of charging hoofs, and I 
heard my father’s war-shout ringing above the 
battle. The Spartans checked ; we drew back ; they 
did not pursue. Breathless, reeking with sweat and 
blood, convulsed with the agony of conflict, still 
holding our formation though with ragged ranks, 
we retired from before those unconquerable pikes, 
the iron wall of Sparta. Well were we guarded 
by the knights of Athens, who won new laurels that 
day. 

Under the burial truce we took up more than a 
thousand corpses, — two hundred belonging to our 
own division, with both our generals, Nicostratus 
and old Laches. Such was the price of defeat. 
What the Spartans had paid for victory we never 
knew; for when we repaired to the field with our 
carts and mattocks, their dkid were gone. But 
Sparta was herself again. Men sneered no more 
about the braves at Pylos. 


XIV. 


The Bow of Golas 

F IVE minas? It is no better than to sell him 
to the mines. It will be twelve minas — 
yes. Does the noble Greek desire a present ? 
See! he is strong — he is like a bull of the moun- 
tains. And he shoots with the bow — so well.” 

I was lounging through the slave-market in 
Piraeus, with others of my kind, — quite gaily 
dressed and with a bubble of wine in the blood. For 
I was leading a rather fast life just now; after my 
hard campaigning I felt the need of relaxation. 
And I had found myself, without much reason, a bit 
of a hero on my return. Alcibiades had given me 
good words, far beyond my deserts; and it was 
something to be my father’s son after that cavalry 
charge at Mantinea. Nor did my father frown 
very sternly on my pleasures ; he gave me plenty of 
money and few rebukes. “ The wine is good to 
wash away blood and sweat,” he said, — “ only 
do not drown yourself.” 

So I was spending freely on horses and banquets, 
and even diced a little, though I found that a witless 
sport. I liked the cottabos better, and at eight 
169 


G O R G O 


1 70 

paces could make the brass tinkle and ring with 
every cast of the wine, — which pleased me, for this 
was the omen of luck in love, and I thought of 
Gorgo. To the rest it seemed but wasted skill, 
for I was utterly careless of the women they raved 
or jested over; the beauty of Gorgo had so dazzled 
me that if ever I looked on others her dancing, glow- 
ing image blotted them out. I have always been 
glad of that. Yet, though I now and then glanced 
at her bracelet and wondered vaguely as to its 
fellow, she had little place in my thoughts in those 
days. I would have made small scruple, I pre- 
sume, at any pleasure, but happily not all things 
pleased me. High-bred horses were my pet ex- 
travagance. If Socrates chanced to turn a sharp- 
edged comment on my follies, I looked at his bare 
feet and smiled. I loved him, but I did not love 
his way of life; and he was certainly no judge of 
horse-flesh. 

Well, I had come from the racing-stables of 
Pasias and was strolling through the slave-market, 
as I have said, when I heard that reptile voice. I 
would have known it in Babylon or Memphis ; yet 
when I looked up, the speaker seemed so mean and 
withered and insignificant that I doubted my ears. 
Only an instant, though; for at his side stood 
the Nubian, big and ugly, just as I remembered him, 
— not himself on sale, as was my first impression, 
but shaking a heavy whip. The creature on the 
selling-block was white-skinned, though sun- 
scorched and shaggy. He stood bowed like an ape, 


G O R G O 


1 7 1 

with long arms drooping below his knees. His legs 
were set in thick gyves; his eyes glared with un- 
tamable fierceness; on his back was a weave of 
scars like the print of a fisher’s net on the sand. 

“Yes — it will be twelve minas,” repeated the 
Syrian, — “ with the bow. It is wonderful, the 
bow — not like those you see.” 

“ Hercules ! ” simpered Callias, in his affected 
way — for he was the bargainer. “ It is but a 
herald’s staff. Twelve minas! Do you think you 
are selling me a right-trace-horse for the races ? ” 

I stepped nearer. “If he shoots let us see his 
shooting,” I said. “ Knock off those fetters.” 

The Syrian did not know me; I had quite out- 
grown his recollection. But he turned the colour 
of dead grass at the mere suggestion. “ You would 
unchain Golas ! The young citizen is rash — he 
does not know. It is a peril; he is so fierce, this 
Golas. It is terrible to see. And with his bow 
— he would kill all here, all.” 

“ A fine purchase! ” I sneered — “A wild beast, 
with barbed arrows by way of claws ! ” 

“ I will not take him at twelve obols,” cried Cal- 
lias, drawing back. 

“ Of what breed is the slave? ” I asked the 
Syrian. 

“ It is a Carduchian. They are of the mountains 
beyond Tigris. The Great King cannot subdue that 
people. Many were killed at his taking ; and he has 
burst his bond — yes, twice; but he had not the 
bow.” 


G O R G O 


172 

“ Let me see it — the bow.” 

It was indeed more like a staff : a thick rod, 
almost straight and longer than a man. It was of 
unknown wood, yellowed with use like old ivory. 
At the grasp it was cased with a section of snake- 
skin, drawn on tightly; but for this and the cord, 
which hung loose with a sliding loop, I should never 
have thought it a bow. I tried to strain it : the 
limbs, though scantly tapered, were very elastic, 
yet as stiff as steel. It sprung from my hands and 
rapped me sharply. The slave eyed it hungrily. 

“ Syrian,” I exclaimed, “ I will buy — at your 
price, twelve minas. But first I will see this bow 
bent and an arrow darted from it ; and no slave of 
mine shall drag a chain.” 

It happened that I had with me Seuthas, a Scyth 
of my father’s troop, skilful with the bow after 
the manner of his nation ; I had summoned him that 
day because he was also a clever judge of the points 
of horses. “If this savage of yours can outshoot 
my archer here, it is a sale,” I said, “ not other- 
wise.” 

“ I would sell,” the trader answered, slowly, 
“ for it is my price; but I dare not break the fetter. 
To give him the bow — it is madness.” 

“ None will buy without proof. You have been 
lying : the bow is not a bow, and the savage is not 
an archer. Come: give proof, or I will have you 
beaten from the market. Why fear? Is not Par- 
docas by you?” 

He recoiled like a stag when it scents an ambush. 


G O R G O 


173 

“ You have the name? You have been before at 
the market; but the old merchant has forgotten.” 

“ We have met,” I said. 

“ Who are you ? ” he cried. “ It was surely long 
ago — yes, long. For the name, it is changed. He 
is not now Pardocas; he is Ephaltas now.” 

“ Loose me the slave. I will see a shot.” 

“ That Golas ! It is even a peril that he has 
his hands ! ” 

“ Has he any knowledge of our tongue? ” 

“ Like a dog : he can understand a little, but 
when he would speak it is barking.” 

I turned : “ Golas,” I said, speaking very 

quietly, “ will you come to me and be my slave, and 
go with me always where I lead you? Will you 
take the bow and keep it, but shoot only as I say, 
and kill no one unless I bid you ? ” Our eyes met, 
— his no longer angry, but full of question and 
like a dog’s indeed. Then he fell prone, crawled to 
my foot and kissed it. 

“ Hail, King of the Carduchians ! ” laughed Cal- 
lias ; and the rest joined. “ A bold stroke and a good 
venture,” Critias added. “ The fellow will obey him 
utterly. Such servants are useful. Callias, you have 
lost.” 

I gave the bow to Golas, who clutched and stroked 
it lovingly. I called a smith to unrivet the fetters. 

“ The bow goes not with the slave,” said the 
Syrian. “ It is a wonderful bow ; it will be three 
minas for the bow.” 

“ But you offered all to Callias for twelve minas ! ” 


G O R G O 


174 

“ Yes — but not to you.” 

I glanced at the smith. “It is but a stick. If 
you claim it, take it.” Golas stepped free; we all 
smiled. 

“ I have yet the arrows,” said the trader, craftily. 

“ Bring them, then,” I broke forth. “ It shall be 
three minas more for the bow, and the cord, and the 
arrows, and the feathers that are upon them. But 
if you still raise a quibble about the points and the 
barbs, Golas himself shall reason with you.” 

The arrows were brought. They were full two 
cubits long, curiously feathered and headed with 
hammered iron. Golas caught them up joyfully 
and shook them from the snake-skin quiver. He 
sunk on his knees before them and poised each shaft 
on his finger, rolling it under his thumb, here and 
there fingering a point or smoothing a plume. Then, 
rising, he pointed to my knife, — a keen, thin blade 
of Tyrian temper. Some drew back at that; but 
though puzzled, I gave it up at once. He lifted it 
to his face, and with quick strokes slashed the ragged 
tangle from his cheeks and chin. 

“ Now,” said I, “ let them shoot, — first for 
strength of cast. Aim high and toward the sea.” 

The bow of Seuthas was of horn, short but stout, 
with a double crook. He fitted his shaft, drew to 
his breast, and let fly with a stinging snap; the 
arrow soared against the blue. For an instant 
Golas watched its flight, — then, dropping the bow- 
heel to his foot, set the cord with an upward thrust. 
The weapon purred in his grasp; a long shaft lay 


G O R G O 


175 

across it. Suddenly he stood erect, his huge arm rose 
at full stretch, the straining thong met his cheek. 
The great arc pulsed, and the springing string sang 
like a lyre, but all in one deep note; and with that 
came a whisper, but we saw no bolt. We lifted 
our eyes. The arrow of Seuthas had reached its 
height, hovering just at the turn; and there it splin- 
tered in the sky, tumbling in fragments from mid-air 
to the harbour’s edge; while, after an interval, a 
white spurt leaped up far out on the water. 

We were all panting, short of breath; I had 
bitten my lip to bleeding. “ A chance,” cried Cal- 
lias, “a mere chance!” and others echoed it. 

“ A shrewd purchase,” said Critias, — “ the slave 
that commits such an accident. It might chance 
again.” 

“ Will any one of you back his doubt with a 
wager ? ” I demanded. 

“ Yes: the price against the slave,” said Callias. 

“ Not I : but a simple talent? or two, if you like? ” 
He was silent. 

“ Wager no wagers on this vile horn,” cried 
Seuthas, flinging down his bow. “ There it may 
lie till it bleaches; I will not shoot another shot. 
The ill-made ox-yoke jarred as I loosed, and the 
arrow clapped and wagged as it left the string, — 
enough to crack any shaft.” We laughed. “ Well,” 
he said, crossly, “ that is not all. There is magic, 
doubtless; I have heard of the like on the plains. 
I will shoot no more matches with a dumb wizard 
— not with any bow, nor at any price.” 


G O R G O 


1 76 

“ There needs none/’ I answered. “ Golas has 
proved all in one, — strength, swiftness, sureness, 
eye and arm, bow and shaft. I ask no more.” 

“ Take your Golas, then. But remember, young 
man, the tricks of jugglers are of no avail in fight. 
One good horse-archer is worth ten croaking magi- 
cians.” 

“ Unstring your tongue, Seuthas,” I said, “ and 
shut your words in their quiver. No one questions 
that you are as good as any centaur to ride or shoot, 
or brawl. You will not lack service in these days. 
My purchase is my own affair. I am satisfied.” 

“ My money — I have not yet the silver,” whined 
the Syrian. “ Bel ! I have but thrown him away 
— that Golas. May Moloch burn me for a child of 
folly ! Had I known, it should have been three tal- 
ents — three for the asking.” 

“ Cowards learn little and brutes less,” I said, 
“ and the smoke of Moloch is in your eyes already. 
But it is true, — you are getting less than your dues. 
I may be minded to give you more. Come.” 

We went together to the money-tables of Arches- 
tratus, then managed by Pasion, his slave, whom 
he afterward set free. There my father had a 
large credit, and I paid the Syrian in full before 
witnesses. 

“ But you promised more,” he complained. 

“ In three days I will keep my promise — if you 
care to wait. Syrian, a debt is always paid. The 
gods keep strict accounts. They are usurers, too, 
and after a long time there is interest.” 


G O R G O 


177 

“ I think you talk like the sophist ; it is empty 
words. But I will wait — yes — three days; but 
now I have other business.” 

“ Not yet : your business is with me. This 
Moloch — you are his servant ? He dwells in your 
land?” 

“ Yes, Moloch is of Syria. He is my god. But 
I spoke no disrespect of the others,” he added, un- 
easily. “ I have even made a gift to your Apollon, 
for an oracle.” 

“ And what was his word ? ” 

“ I will not tell you that; the oracle is not to be 
told.” 

“ Moloch is angry; he has blinded you, Syrian.” 

“ It cannot be : I have done service to Moloch. 
Yes — three infants, still of the milk — ” 

“ Be silent ! the gods of Greece will hear you. 
How many were slain by Golas at his first taking? 
But I will tell you. There are nine arrows in the 
quiver, and one in the harbour.” 

“ There were twelve : one was broken, and one 
passed through and was lost ; it was the last of all. 
But what is this ? ” 

“ In three days I will send Golas with what is 
due you.” 

“ Golas ! You are speaking some treacheries. I 
will go.” 

“ Do not run — unless you can outrun an arrow. 
Look into my eyes. Have you no remembrance of 
the little son of Hagnon ? ” 


G O R G O 


178 

“You are that one!” His jaw sunk, and his 
mouth hung open like an idiot’s. 

“ Three times we have met, Syrian, and each time 
you have done me service. It was not your wish but 
the god so willed it, — not Moloch — he is far away 
and cannot aid you — but that mightier god who 
holds the skies of Hellas. For each friend that you 
have brought me I give a day, — and on the third 
day, Golas. He will come with quiver and bow, free 
of hand and foot. He knows your den : I doubt you 
will decide to wait. And if ever again I see your 
face in Athens — Golas asks but a sign.” 

The fellow fled with the terror of arrows sting- 
ing at his back, clutching his pouch yet spilling silver 
as he ran. The Nubian was gone already. Again 
they appeared for a moment, close by the harbour. 
Golas glanced after them; then at me. He stood 
bow in hand, with fingers nestling in the plumes 
that crowned his quiver; but he made no move- 
ment. 

On the third day, at noon, I led him to the door. 
“ Go,” I said. “ Seek the Syrian in all his holes.” 
And I laid my finger on an arrow. 

His face brightened ; but he paused. u Gola 
come back ? ” he grunted. 

“ You will come back. You are to serve me 
always.” 

He cast off the mantle I had given him, and ran 
down the street with a crouching lope. Late that 
evening he again stood before me, impassive, not 
an arrow gone from his sheaf. 


G O R G O 


179 


“ Speak,” I commanded. 

That was harder to him than any miracle of the 
bow. “ Not find,” he managed to articulate. 

“ Well,” I said, “ we will wait.” 


XV. 


Apteryx 

A PTERYX was the only man, of all I ever 
knew, who could make any stand against 
Socrates. In sarcasm I believe he excelled 
him. In boldness of thought and speech — a merci- 
less probing of all that men hold true — he was 
somewhat like him. But Socrates, though great in 
question, was great in faith ; and Apteryx had faith 
in nothing. The sweet sanity of Socrates he lacked 
altogether. Apart from the weird and sinister elo- 
quence which sometimes gushed from his lips he had 
no charm, nor was he in any way lovable or help- 
ful. Sophist, cynic, poet, madman — I know not 
what to call him. But the manner of our meeting 
was this. 

I had just parted from Alcibiades, newly returned 
from the massacre at Melos. We had almost quar- 
relled. 

“ Men will think us the foes of mankind,” I had 
exclaimed. “ First Mytilene barely escapes ; then 
all that bloody business at Corcyra ; then Scione, 
and now Melos! It is not even politic.” 

" It is war,” he said, impatiently. “ Come, I am 
180 


G O R G O 1 8 1 

the most magnanimous fellow in Athens. I have 
taken one of their women to wife.” 

“ After killing her husband ! ” 

“ Do you hold with Socrates against killing? ” he 
sneered. 

“ No; I would kill for need, not for greed.” 

“ Well, there was need, then. We had to make 
room for our own colonists somehow. You are un- 
practical, Theramenes.” 

I turned from him in some disgust. 

“ Must we dispute over a few hundred wretched 
islanders ? ” he cried, with unwonted forbearance 
in his tone. 

“No,” I answered, “we will not dispute; but 
leave me alone awhile.” 

“ We didn’t kill quite all of them,” he called after 
me. “ There goes one now ; don’t tread on him, 
soft-heart. Pray for me, if you are going to the 
temple.” 

I had almost tripped upon a shabby little distor- 
tion who was just beginning to climb the long 
stairway of the Acropolis. He was less than three 
cubits in height, bent like a wrestler’s scraping- 
hook; he made slow progress, crawling past my 
legs much as a crippled bug drags himself along the 
sand. I looked down on his hump with loathing; 
yet with pity, too — the more, if he was really a 
Melian. 

“ Who are you ? ” I asked, drawing back till 
my mantle swung clear of him. 

He stopped and looked up edgewise. “ Nothing,” 


182 


G O R G O 


he panted. “ Nothing at all, and unlucky enough 
to know it. Hence, like your modest Socrates, I 
have been accounted wise.” 

“ Has nothing, then, a name? ” 

“ It has nothing else. Must you of Athens have 
that too? ” The voice was high-pitched, but rather 
musical. 

“ Only as one takes the hand.” 

“Just so: you would not keep it. I, therefore, 
will keep it.” 

“ It is a convenience for one who would talk.” 

“What — a name? Quite the contrary: it is at 
times most inconvenient. In Athens, especially : 
your Socrates may yet discover that.” He resumed 
his hobble upward. “ Why talk ? It is but the 
shadow of smoke. Still, there is nothing better : 
to talk is amusing. What you call acting is no more 
real, and your men of action cause an illusion of 
pain; of such is that fair phantom Alcibiades who 
left you but now. For the sake of talk, then, you 
may call me Apteryx.” 

I smiled. “ Had you wings they would doubtless 
be of much service, — and light their load. But 
since you are wingless my slave shall assist you.” 
For I felt that we owed the man some show of 
. kindness. 

“ I shall see the aspect of the temple sooner so,” 
he replied, “ but there will be no thanks. For, 
indeed, I shall still be where I was.” 

“ The Sphinx ! What riddle for the revels is 
this?” 


G O R G O 


183 

“ All places are one,” he responded, “ and the 
things that come and go move not and are not. 
So, at least, some of those reputed wise have told 
me. For myself, I hold that anywhere is nowhere.” 

I bit my lip to keep from laughing; I thought 
him crazed, as perhaps he was. “ And is to-day yes- 
terday, and also to-morrow? ” 

“ No day ever passed that was not all three. Or 
rather, it does not pass. The visions pass, but time 
is changeless. Do you not know that it is always 
now?” And here I laughed aloud. “Try that 
for a riddle at your revels, young man. But no 
reveller ever guessed it, though what is seen in 
wine is like the faces that grin and wrinkle at us 
from troubled water.” 

“ The solid earth is perhaps a delusion also ? ” 

“ That least of anything. I love to lie upon it 
and clutch it with my hands when my brow is hot 
and I am weary of thinking. Yet I have stood 
upon it in dreams, and with the dream it flew away ; 
and it will again fly away with the dream which you, 
I presume, call life. The earth? It will be noth- 
ing to> me then ; it is nothing to me now.” He had 
ceased his clambering, damp with sweat. “ The 
aid you promised,” he added, “ is, I conceive, still 
more a delusion.” 

I signed to Golas, who lifted him in his arms. 
The dwarf, with a sigh of relief, sunk back and 
gazed at the sky. “ It gives room to the eyes,” he 
said. “ I do not see it often. It is good for the 
eyes.” 


G O R G O 


1 84 

“ That too is doubtless a delusion,” I remarked. 

“ The sky and all that dwell therein,” he an- 
swered. And at this I was truly shocked. 

“You speak as an atheist!” 

“ I have told you already that I am nothing. Are 
you offended? Let the slave cast me down this 
marble ladder, and I shall be less than a seeming.” 

But Golas made no move to set him down until 
we were within the great hall of the temple, breath- 
ing the fragrant fumes of the altar in full view of 
the resplendent goddess whose golden helmet almost 
touched the panels of the ceiling. I looked upon 
her, as I always did, with loving awe, — and a 
memory of Gorgo. At length Apteryx spoke. 

“ Well,” he said, querulously, “ the pavement is 
of good stone justly fitted, but I care not to inspect 
it further.” 

Then Golas again took him up. He lay curled like 
a ball, resting his head against the slave’s shoulder, 
and so gazed long and earnestly. 

“ Fine gold and fair ivory, well wrought,” he 
said, at last, “ and a face to remember. I shall pray 
to her to look upon me often.” 

“ Pray to her ! ” I exclaimed. “ Do you believe, 
then, in Athena?” 

“ I believe in visions,” he answered, “ and as I 
walk I shall often see her face painted upon the 
gravel.” 

As we came out, that other image of Athena — 
the brazen goddess whose temple was the sky — 
blazed in our eyes like a figure carved in fire; while 


G O R G O 


185 

the columns all about us glowed and trembled in the 
sunset. It seemed unreal ; the spell of this man was 
upon me. I looked down on the city; it lay in a 
stain of crimson, blotted with shadows. A sea- 
eagle sailed on the left, dusky against the horizon ; 
the air chilled as it gloomed; I felt the forebode 
of evil. Then came the impulse of prayer; I lifted 
my hands to the towering statue. 

“ Goddess,” I cried, “ Protectress of this ancient 
city of thy name, forget not thy people.” 

“You pray amiss: he prospers whom the gods 
forget.” The cold, thin voice fell on my ear like 
the stroke of a knife. “ Yet let him not prosper too 
greatly, or they shall again take heed of him.” 

“ Scoffer and sceptic! Would you bar me from 
the grace of Athena with impious words unseason- 
ably uttered ? ” 

“ Pray, then, for justice on your city. Dare any 
in Athens make that prayer ? But the undue favour 
of the gods is ever a curse to mortals, and the land 
that is too much blessed of heaven shall lie deso- 
late.” 

“ You are mad. You speak blasphemous con- 
tradictions. Have you not denied the gods alto- 
gether? ” 

“ I have thought better of it. I find that I must 
needs believe in gods, for I cannot conceive that 
men should be such fools unless there are gods to 
dement them. Besides, even though the gods be 
shadows they sometimes send bad dreams. I have 
not denied that they afflict us with dreams.” 


1 86 G O R G O 

“ You are mad indeed; yet only Socrates can 
answer you.” 

“ That is my wish. Take me now to 1 your won- 
derful sophist,” he commanded; and I obeyed as 
if I had been his bond-servant. 

I knew, as it happened, that Socrates had prom- 
ised Callias to sit at wine that night in the great 
house built by Hipponicus in Piraeus. Golas car- 
ried the dwarf all the way, grunting a little, for the 
distance was more than forty stades. I was certain 
that the affair was quite informal, else the chief 
guest would have shunned it ; SO' I threw a drachma 
to the porter, who, recognising me, made no 
scruple to let us pass. Six or eight were at table, 
and the wine was already pouring. Callias, always 
prepared for the uninvited when Socrates was pres- 
ent, was profuse in his welcome and at once divined 
that I had brought a curiosity of some sort. He 
called for cushions, and Apteryx was so propped 
in a chair that he could lean back and see the 
company. For a moment all stared at him, then 
courteously turned away their glances. The wine 
flowed again, but the flow of words was checked. 

“ What weather is Jove making? ” asked Callias, 
presently, to relieve the silence, — “ fair or foul? ” 

“ He gathers clouds and will rain before morn- 
ing,” I answered. 

“ They are fools who speak thus,” broke in Ap- 
teryx. “ For me, it rains and all is said. It is the 
nature of rain to- fall, even as it is the nature of wind 


G O R G O 187 

to blow, or of men to utter nonsense; and Jove is 
useless.” 

“ It is only a form of speech,” I said. But none 
heeded me; all were looking at Socrates. 

“ I hear,” said he, “ that our friend Theramenes 
has lately bought a slave, and paid a great price 
because the fellow was skilful with the bow. He 
was foolish; for since it is the nature of the bow 
to shoot there needed no archer. The Athenians, 
too, are doubtless foolish to enact laws and appoint 
officers for their enforcement ; or are the laws of 
the gods so different from these that they need no 
author? ” 

“ I deny those laws,” piped the dwarf. “ What 
you call the law of the gods is but the nature of 
things, — nature itself. And all things act accord- 
ing to their nature. I say again, Jove is useless.” 

“ It rather appears to me,” said Socrates, “ that 
you have given Jove a new name. He is now, as 
it seems, become a goddess, and we must hereafter 
bow the knee to Nature. But tell me this: in all 
the wonderful frame of the universe, so perfect in 
every part, so far excelling anything ever devised 
by men, do you see no evidence of wisdom ? ” And 
here he fell into his usual manner of questioning. 
“ What, pray, would you regard as the marks of 
intelligence in anything planned by men ? ” 

“ I have observed no such marks of intelligence,” 
said Apteryx. 

“ Well,” said Socrates, smiling, “ setting aside 
the works of men, since you hold them in such con- 


1 88 


G O R G O 


tempt, is not the body at least a contrivance worthy 
of admiration, ingeniously planned, as if by some 
one meaning good to man ? ” 

“ Mine is not.” He looked up with his sidelong 
glance. “ And yours, perhaps, might admit of 
improvement,” he added, sourly. 

A sudden laugh sputtered round the table. “ You 
have scored upon me,” said Socrates, joining 
heartily. “Yet if the gods have been unkind to 
us in this, to you at least they have made some 
amends by the gift of wit; and I doubt much that 
you would exchange it even for the beauty of Alci- 
biades.” 

“ I have had a surfeit of your Alcibiades. Yet I 
commend him : unless he dies too soon of luxury or 
rashness, he shall be an avenger. Alcibiades ! trail- 
ing his robes of purple dabbled in blood! I would 
not be such as he for the graces of Apollo,” screamed 
the little Melian. And as he spoke I perceived that 
his face had, after all, a sort of blasted beauty, most 
unlike the wholesome homeliness of Socrates, — 
who resumed : 

“ I was wrong in seeking to lead you thus, by 
questions. You have turned them well, but I fear 
we are learning nothing. Speak your message; we 
will listen without interruption.” 

“ Do you mean that you would listen to a sceptic’s 
creed?” he said, sullenly. “Then call the Eleven 
and make ready the hemlock. You will hear blas- 
phemies.” 


G O R G O 


189 

The face of Socrates was full of pain, — but, 
“ Speak,” he said, “ whatever you think is true.” 

The dwarf flung back among the cushions for a 
clearer view. “ You are honest,” he cried, — “ by 
all the phantom gods, you are honest, and yet no 
fool. I will speak the sheer truth as I see it ; and for 
a contrast, I will begin like the poet. In the begin- 
ning was Nothing. And of Nothing, Nothing was 
brought forth; of the Father of Nothing, Nothing 
was begotten. That is the only true theogony; 
Hesiod was crazy with the word-madness.” 

We were choking over our cups ; the eyes of Soc- 
rates twinkled. “ Before we proceed further in 
this matter,” he said, “ let us send to Delos.” 

“ For an oracle, Socrates ? ” asked Callias. 

“ For a man to do the diving. They are said to 
be very competent, and our occasion demands the 
best. The oracle we have already.” 

“ It is the only rational cosmos,” insisted Apteryx. 
“ Nothing alone requires no explanation.” 

“ Existence is the problem, I think. Nothing 
indeed explains — nothing. Enough, or we shall 
all have need of hellebore.” 

“ I worship the Shadow god, and none other. As 
for Jove, I deem him less than Homer, who was his 
creator; but Jove created not Homer, nor aught 
else, save vapours in the minds of priests and poets, 
— whence, perhaps, he is justly called ‘ cloud-com- 
pelling/ ” 

“ Tell us more of your cosmos,” I entreated him. 

What is it that we see on every side? ” 


G O R G O 


190 

“ A tissue of dreams and shadow, embroidered 
with follies, stitched with pain. It hangs before us 
like a luminous veil, lighted by a lamp that will soon 
be darkened : see, the flame flutters in the wind 
already. Then all is dark.” 

“God forbid 1” exclaimed Socrates. “The soul 
that speaks thus is sick with death.” And Callias 
signed to a slave, who pricked up the wick. 

But Apteryx talked on : “ Is not this wine which 
you have set before me solid to> the eye, yet yielding 
to the touch? Is it not biting upon the tongue, yet 
sweet in the nostrils? Does it not cool the lips, yet 
heat the blood? And that which is one thing, yet 
O'f which every sense tells a different tale, cannot 
truly exist.” 

“ At least,” said Socrates, “ we do not know it 
as it truly is, but only as it appears; so much may 
be conceded.” 

“ Apteryx, tell us more,” I said. 

“ Are you not yet satisfied? Would you study the 
pattern of a world of phantoms ? ” 

“ I would learn the pattern.” 

“ Know, then, that every seeming is exactly 
as it seems. It cannot be otherwise; and so, in 
their hearts, all men believe, however much they 
profess other doctrines. The philosophers are fools.” 

“ Do you not hold with Anaxagoras that the 
figure of the earth is round? For he says that he 
has seen its shadow on the moon.” 

“ Do olives grow treeless, and do men gather 
them spinning in the air? It is more absurd than 


G O R G O 


19 1 

to deem that a certain Atlas bears this bubble uni- 
verse upon his much deluded shoulders, himself 
without foothold ; or that Jove swings all by a golden 
chain from the airy pinnacle of heaven. Yet down 
and up are not more manifest than is the truth. 
For this semblance of earth is altogether bound- 
less, even as time and space that are its elements, 
extending ever downward without end. However 
deep thou diggest thou shalt find but clay and rock 
and gravel ; though thou burrow on forever, thou 
shalt find naught else. How, then, hath it need 
of anything to rest upon, resting ever upon itself, — 
itself the base of all? For to look upon the earth 
and think otherwise is not only to dream, but to 
dream emptiness.” 

“ I find little profit in these speculations,” said 
Socrates wearily. “ In what way do they lead us 
to a better life? ” But Apteryx fluted on as if he 
had not heard, his head sunk in his breast, his voice 
like that of one reciting verses. 

“ Nor hath this earth any verge or limit, as some 
allege, babbling in words void of meaning. Go 
where thou wilt, thou shalt still find the figment of 
hills and plains and waters, and the phantom sun 
and the stars shall appear to rise and set, and the 
changing shapes of cloud shall drift over thee. 
Many spectres thou mayest see, of strange monsters 
and men yet stranger, and new plumage of birds, 
and herbs of unknown growth. These, and such as 
these, mayest thou find in variety infinite, — not 
even the wind-flitting wings of Hermes might show 


192 


G O R G O 


thee all their aspects. But though thou wander amid 
these visions for countless aeons, becoming death- 
less while nations pass from nothingness to nothing- 
ness and forests lose themselves beneath their drop- 
ping leaves, still shalt thou find the earth beneath and 
the sky above. From under the sky thou mayest not 
flee out, nor from off the earth. Dream not of it; 
for even dreams are chained to the earth from which 
they spring/’ He paused. Not a cup was lifted; 
no voice was raised. 

“ And all this,” he continued, “ may every man 
prove for himself when he will, making trial accord- 
ing to his strength and ever finding it thus ; but the 
contrary none has ever proved by any test, nor ever 
may. And herein these fancies of a vain philosophy 
are like that other phantasy of a life after death, 
which some prate about.” 

“ Do you deny that also ? ” said Socrates. 

“ I do not wish it for myself,” he answered. “ 1 
should surely weary.” His tone was again dry and 
hard. 

“ But for others — those who desire it.” 

“ To fools I concede it; for all know that folly 
is immortal.” 

“ What, then, becomes of us? ” I asked. It was 
my old, unanswered question. 

“ Have you never looked in the blazing pyre? A 
white crumble of bone and evil odours.” 

“ That is the body ; what of the rest ? ” 

The lamp, as it chanced, stood near; he drew it 
toward him and blew it out. 


G O R G O 


193 

“ The rest is darkness,” he cried, shrilly, through 
the gloom; and we heard the tinkle of his goblet. 
His voice again sounded : 

“ This to you, Socrates, true seeker for the truth, 
— may you never be so cursed as to find it. And 
this to you, son of Hagnon, that sought to befriend 
me, — may the phantom gods bestow upon your 
phantom soul the delusion that it is blessed.” Then 
the voice rose in anger. “ And to you who have 
laughed me to scorn and to you who have slaugh- 
tered my people, — may dreams of disaster and 
nightmare terrors and all the black spectres of Cocy- 
tus be about you ; and would that you might indeed 
become immortal, to enjoy these dreams forever.” 

The goblet crashed on the board ; Callias shouted 
loudly to his servants ; but when lights were brought 
the sinister guest was gone. 

We all turned to Socrates. The wine in our cups 
was flavourless, and what we had drunk lay cold 
within us. 

“ Speak to us, Socrates,” I said. “ Speak some 
good word and break this spell of evil ; for we sit 
among his phantoms.” 

“ I know well,” he answered, humbly, “ that I 
understand nothing of the things above and the 
ways of the gods, nor yet of the things below, nor 
even of what I touch; of matters such as these no 
true knowledge has been granted me. And many 
times, when I think upon the fables that men tell and 
upon philosophy, the gods themselves seem dim and 
lost in clouds. But that in and above and behind them 


194 


G O R G O 


there is a power which makes right better than 
wrong, and stronger and certain to prevail, and 
shapes all for good, — that I know beyond any 
word of priest or seer or prophet. And I know that 
a world thus ruled by law is not a dream, and the 
soul that is subject to this law is not a phantom; 
but falsehood and curses are phantoms, harmless ex- 
cept to him who utters them. If we or our city have 
clone injustice — and SO' I fear — we shall suffer 
what is due; but not because of curses. All this I 
know; and that by which I know is a voice that 
speaks within the soul. It rings out in the hour of 
trouble like the rescue-cry in battle, ever loudest 
when I am most beset ; I can no more doubt what it 
tells me than doubt my being. Where it bids me 
walk I walk, though it be among shadows, and with 
it I fear not even the shadow men call death. The 
rest, good friends, may perhaps be darkness, — but 
it is surely peace.” 


XVI. 


The Sailing of the Fleet 

T HRASYBULUS, bending over the sand, was 
drawing a figure of some sort, with quite a 
company gathered round him. When I had 
pressed through to his side, I saw that he was tracing 
a map in rough outline on the dust. 

“ There,” he said, straightening up and pointing 
with his stick, “ that is Sicily ; and Syracuse is right 
here, fronting us. Those Egesta people, that are 
asking us to help them, live across on the other side ; 
but that doesn’t count for much, though it seems 
they’ve got money. Italy comes down here, close to 
Syracuse; and Carthage is just over yonder in 
Africa. See, it isn’t far. We’ll get the whole of it 
if we have any sort of luck. And then — look out, 
Spartans ! ” 

“ There’ll be no such luck for us with Alcibiades 
in command,” said Critias, coldly. “ Have you no 
better business', Thrasybulus, than helping rascals 
cheat this crazy people with lying pictures?” He 
stamped out the map. Several lifted their hands to 
strike, but he sneered in their faces and walked 
away. 


i95 


G O R G O 


196 

For these were the days when our city was all in 
a flutter over the great Sicilian project. The gath- 
ering troops paraded in the streets; the markets 
hummed with talk. Piraeus rang with the clamour 
of hammer and adze; the harbour was dense with 
shipping and alive with dancing boats. Great bags 
of silver were carried about openly, and the money- 
changers’ tables were piled high. 

“Do you embark?” I asked Thrasybulus, in an 
undertone. 

“ My mother weeps and cries out at any speech of 
it,” he answered, regretfully. “ She imagines that 
Sicily is somewhere away beyond the Pillars; she 
can’t understand a map. Of course, while she feels 
so, I can’t leave her here alone, — though my uncle 
is willing to manage the property. But isn’t it slave’s 
luck?” 

“ It is my father that will hinder me,” I said. 
“ Still, I shall ask him.” 

But I found my father less positive than I had 
expected. His look was troubled and full of doubt ; 
he did not answer at once. “ I will not say that 
I approve the plan,” he said, finally. “ It is a boys’ 
war; I have no confidence in Alcibiades, as you 
know. Yet it may prove a great opportunity, after 
all; and with so good a man as Nicias joined 
in command — ” 

“ Lamachus, too,” I interrupted. “ Lamachus is 
the best soldier I ever knew — except you, father.” 

“ Yes,” he said, “ Lamachus is a stout, practical 
fighter, and a campaigner of great experience, — 


G O R G O 


197 

though somewhat headlong, in his youth at least. 
I have often wondered that so able an officer should 
remain so poor.” 

I laughed. “ They say he has just sent a bill to 
the city auditors for the price of a pair of shoes and 
a woollen cloak — and he had it marked ‘ urgent ! ’ ” 

My father frowned. “ It is disgraceful : such a 
fellow is unfit for office. Yet even your ragged 
Lamachus is better than your reckless debauchee, 
whose dragging purple is a shame to manhood and 
a menace to the state. I grieve, my son, that you 
so often compromise yourself in such company.” 

“You don’t know him, father. He can do what 
no other in Athens can do.” 

“ He can, indeed! But with the good Nicias in 
charge to prevent hasty action there can be no 
serious disaster.” 

“ It is the finest armament we have ever mustered. 
A hundred of our own best triremes, with picked 
crews, and more from the allies — it cannot fail.” 

“Not without gross mismanagement; and the 
very unwillingness of Nioias, and his refusal to sail 
with fewer ships, show a prudence which ensures 
victory from the outset. I have little liking for these 
far-off ventures, — but you must make your own 
decision.” 

And then, to my surprise, I found that I was 
myself undecided. So it was with many others : we 
were shouting down all doubts, from doubting 
hearts. At length, vexed with my own fruitless 
debating, I staked the issue on the cast of an obol, 


G O R G O 


198 

— the owl for Athens, the head of Athena for en- 
listment. Yet when the helmet ed head fell upper- 
most I could not accept the result. I repeated the 
cast with a drachma : again Athena smiled from 
her helmet, and still I wavered. 

In this mood I met Socrates, — for a wonder 
standing quite alone on the edge of the market, his 
eyes fixed on the ground. I wasted no words in 
needless explanations, but let fly my question. 

“Tell me, Socrates, — how will it be?” I asked 
him twice before he heeded me. “ How will it be? 
I don’t know what to do.” 

Then he looked up. “ Well,” he said, “ before 
doing it is quite needful to know what to do. Wait, 
then, until you know.” 

“ But how will it be? ” 

His eyes had dropped again; he stood like one 
listening. “ Few will return. It is not your destiny, 
I think, to die elsewhere than at Athens.” 

Alcibiades had joined us. “ See,” he said, “ if this 
croaker speaks true, you have only to keep away 
from Athens and you are nothing less than immortal. 
Come with me: I will make you a ruler of cities. 
Come: the love of Alcibiades is no light matter. 
Come, garland,” he ended, with sudden reminiscence. 

But I turned to Socrates. “ Did the voice tell 
you that ? ” 

“ The voice spoke.” 

“ And did the voice also bid me wait ? ” 

“ That was only the voice of reason.” 

“But you yourself would counsel me to wait?” 


G O R G O 


199 

“ Then wait on me,” broke in Alcibiades, “ and 
fortune shall wait on both of us. Frog,” he cried, 
turning sharply on Socrates, “ have you any evil to 
croak of me? ” 

The answer was not to be forgotten. It came, 
not as Socrates was wont to speak, but in a slumber- 
ous monotone, more like the droning of a bombyx : 

“ Thou shalt return in triumph, but not from 
Sicily. There shall be disaster, but defeat shall never 
look thee in the face. Thou art not to be trusted; 
yet, woe to those who trust thee not. Thy life shall 
be spent in doing and undoing; and this is not my 
word, but the voice.” 

He ceased speaking, but stood as rigid as a shape 
of stone, his look lost in space. I had never seen the 
like before. 

“ The fit is on him now,” said Alcibiades. “ You 
could scarcely rouse him with a trumpet. He is 
often so. Once in Thrace he stood thus from night- 
fall to daybreak, never moving, — then went to his 
tent with the morning in his face and Apollo only 
knows what new wisdom in his heart.” 

“ He has spoken an oracle.” 

“ An oracle indeed : when he speaks thus it is 
Apollo’s truth. Jove! the meaning is somewhat 
beyond me, but I accept it. And truly, it sounds more 
auspicious than most of those we hear. I shall re- 
turn triumphant, but not from Sicily — from Car- 
thage, more likely. My face shall bring victory — 
what care I for the luck of others ? My enemies shall 
have their fill of woe — these are words of good 


200 


G O R G O 


import ; and by the Internals, I have enemies enough 
to fill the air with howling. I shall make and unmake 
as I will — perhaps even to the unmaking of Father 
Demus, Theramenes. Those of my blood once ruled 
the city better than he. Come with me, Theramenes ; 
you shall be second only to Alcibiades. Even by the 
warning of Socrates — against whom none shall 
breathe a whisper when I rule — you are safe with 
me, while Athens holds your death.” 

“ Where better could I die? Besides, I know he 
did not mean to-morrow, nor the day after. Alci- 
biades, you have been speaking treason in my ears. 
There will be no echo of those words, for I love you 
better than a brother; but I will not cast my lot 
with one who dreams of tyranny.” 

“ How long have you been so devoted to old 
Father Demus, always a dullard, now deep in his 
dotage? ” 

“ I think of the many as you do. The few, who 
alone make any show of sanity, should rule — if 
they will rule with honesty and moderation. So 
Socrates thinks, and so think all men of sense. But 
for one alone to lord it over all is monstrous. I 
will not see my countrymen made slaves; nor will 
I myself be a slave, even to Alcibiades.” 

“ For your sake,” he cried, gaily, “ I here and 
now renounce all thought of tyranny. I will rule by 
the breath of the mob, as heretofore. We will be 
tyrants only in foreign cities. You have no longer 
any excuse.” 

It was hard — it was very hard — to resist his 


G O R G O 


201 


entreaties; but I knit my heart and faced him. 
“ Hear me, Alcibiades. Once before, long ago, you 
held out your hands to me like that, and bade me 
choose between you and Socrates. As I chose then 
I choose now. It is decided : I will not go.” 

This was my final word ; yet as I walked away he 
kept beside me, still urging. As we turned the corner 
I looked back. Socrates had not stirred : except the 
light quiver of his tunic in the wind, he stood as 
motionless as the mantic figure of Cassandra that 
rose on the painted wall just behind, — and so we 
left him. But Alcibiades begged in vain. 

A few days later I chanced upon Andocides near 
the Rotunda. With him were Phrynichus, Critias, 
Taureas, and several others of the rabid sort, press- 
ing about Charmides. They halted in their talk 
as I approached, and stared at me curiously. I 
turned aside: I did not even salute them; but 
Andocides, shaking off the hand which Critias laid 
on his shoulder, made after me. I disliked him, and 
he knew it; but now he made up to me. 

“ I hear that you have broken with Alcibiades,” 
he began. 

“ I shall not sail, if that is what you mean.” 

“ But he is angry. They say that he threatens 
you.” 

I stood silent and sullen. 

“ I think you are wise,” he pursued. “ You need 
not fear him. There are others who will not sail 
— with Alcibiades.” 


202 G O R G O 

“ I doubt he will miss you,” I exclaimed, impa- 
tiently. 

“ Perhaps not. We shall see. Perhaps Alcibiades 
himself will not sail.” 

“You cannot stop him. What do you mean?” 

He peered at me keenly, and seemed to hesitate. 
He was thin and sallow, with long, lank hair and 
wavering eyes; I observed that he carried a staff, 
in the Spartan fashion. “ Come,” he said, appar- 
ently changing the subject, “ if you stay in Athens 
you will need amusement. Have you ever heard 
of our Laconian club? ” 

“ Possibly : but how do you amuse yourselves ? ” 

“ Oh, for one thing we study the institutions of 
Sparta.” He laughed. “We rather admire them; 
they are more to our liking than those of Athens. 
We even call our officers Ephors. But — Holy 
Hermes! that is one of our secrets, and you are 
not yet initiated ! ” 

“ Safe enough, with me.” 

“ I was sure of it : you will join us ; you are not 
of the rabble. It was only because of Alcibiades 
that we distrusted you. He has cast you off : you 
now belong with us.” I was gulping with rage 
and disgust, but he did not perceive it. “ You shall 
soon see changes. Father Demus we scorn. Alci- 
biades we hate and thwart. Then, too, we have our 
religious amusements, and to-night — ” 

But here anger broke loose from judgment, — 
perhaps on the verge of revelation. “ You amuse 
yourselves with treason,” I cried, “ and sacrilege, 


G O R G O 


203 


doubtless, is your pet diversion. You mimic the 
Spartans, and are the more like apes. You are 
jealous of Alcibiades, yet can only imitate his worst 
faults, — such manikins are you. I will at least 
consort with men ; and if ever I see fit to turn traitor 
it will sooner be with him than with you.” 

The eyes of Andocides flashed green, like a cat’s. 
“ As you please,” he said, “ but have a care of your 
tongue. We carry knives as well as canes, and use 
them to teach the Pythagorean silence.” 

“ I do not doubt it. Among your Spartan studies 
the crypteian murder gangs would not be neglected.” 

His lips were drawn; he had come so close that 
the reek of his wine was in my nostrils. As I pushed 
him back I heard the low moan of the cord as Golas 
set his bow. 

“We have learned all that is needful,” snapped 
the Laconiser. “ Fool, I would not strike you here. 
Yet I tell you frankly, there are knives that do our 
bidding.” Then he smoothed his face, and his 
manner changed. “ Come, I will not leave you in 
such a mood. Our interests are one : we shall need 
you, and you will need us. I have spoken too soon. 
You are full of childish scruples and not yet ready; 
Critias was right. Still, there is merry riot in your 
veins. Like myself, you fear nothing and have some 
tang of wit about you. Well, you are missing sport, 
but you will come to us later ; you cannot do other- 
wise.” 

“ Indeed ! Then hear my answer. When I cannot 


G O R G O 


204 

do otherwise I will join you — not one day sooner. 
Shall I swear it — by all the gods you mock? ” 

“ Shining Apollo and All-seeing Eye of Jove! 
You still believe in the gods? and doubtless in a cer- 
tain rattle of syllables called ‘ justice,’ often in the 
mouth of that old rogue Socrates, but less than the 
breath that utters it? Dear child, are you not also 
afraid of Mormo? Now don’t be angry; you will 
soon grow older. You were not present, I fancy, 
when your worshipful Alcibiades, in his drink, 
showed up the sacred mysteries for a jest! Such a 
happy, fruitful jest! and so like him! But in poli- 
tics you will find it as I have said. With your 
darling Alcibiades you have quarrelled. With the 
swinish populace you have neither sympathy nor 
credit. They grunt ‘ aristocrat ’ after you even now 
— both at you and your father. Stand, then, by 
those of your own sort, and don’t flinch at a little 
necessary crime. We are only setting our knives 
against the tusks of swine before they gore us. You 
are our novitiate; you have gone too far to recede. 
Think of this, my virtuous friend. Watch the signs, 
and take your time, — but meanwhile walk by the 
rule of Pythagoras, or you will learn more of that 
crypteian service than you wish to know.” He 
glanced toward Golas. “ Let your fellow there slack 
his bow. Hercules! but he is swift. By the Twin 
Archers in Heaven, if the tales they tell of him 
are true he will be of use to us some day.” 

“ He is worth your whole crypteian regiment. 
Should you have occasion to murder his master you 


G O R G 


O 


205 


will need a new band. Listen, Andocides. When 
the ships of Athens are vanquished on the sea ; when 
Alcibiades is praised in Sparta ; and when — well — 
when Father Demus himself begins to listen to your 
proposals to put him out of business, — then I will 
cast my lot with you, and Golas shall serve you. 
Till then, no more words.” 

“ You are rather exacting,” he answered, coolly, 
“ but stranger things have happened.” 

Boldly as I had answered — and the loudness of 
my tone had sent his eyes uneasily roving — I went 
home heavy-hearted. 


XVII. 


Broken Stones 

T HE next morning all Athens was in an up- 
roar. Roused by the clamour in the street, 
I sprang from my bed and ran out just as the 
sky was lighting. I could scarcely push open the 
door; an angry, jabbering crowd filled the roadway 
from wall to wall. I pressed through to learn the 
cause. 

Nearly opposite our main entrance had stood an 
ancient Hermes-post. It was like a hundred others 
in different parts of the city, — a low, square col- 
umn, carved at the top to represent a head. It was 
not artistic : the coarse features grinned inanely 
from a weather-worn frill of spiral curls; the face 
that was meant for a god’s was more like a satyr’s. 
But there the rude stone had stood unharmed from 
the earliest days, staring with hollow eyes upon 
the passing throngs of many generations, the cher- 
ished guardian of the street. Even the Persians 
had spared it; for all that any one knew it might 
be older than Theseus. The sacred olives, whose 
very stumps are fenced about with walls and penal- 
ties, were not more inviolable; the fairest statues 
in the temples were scarcely so hallowed. 

206 


G O R G O 


207 


The space about this figure appeared to be the 
centre of excitement, and toward it I forced my 
way; but I found there only a spire of battered 
marble, rising amid a white shatter of chips and 
fragments. Every trace of carving had been 
pounded off with heavy hammers. 

I turned on the crowd and out-shouted its tumult. 
“ Who among you has dared this sacrilege? ” 

“ None here! ”« The answer echoed in from all 
quarters, mingled with oaths and protestations. “ It 
was done in the night ! A plot — some sedition — 
a scheme of the godless oligarchs! We are lost — 
our gods will abandon us. Every Hermes in Athens 
is broken ! ” 

“ All broken ? ” I paled with a sudden suspicion. 

“ No,” said a man near me. “ As I passed the 
house of Andocides I saw one untouched, — that 
new one, set up by the yEgeians.” 

“ The house of Andocides ? ” I fancied I knew the 
reason. But I stood bewildered, making an ill 
show of myself. 

Then came a voice from a distance. “ Is not this 
Theramenes, the son of Hagnon, who lives oppo- 
site? Perhaps he himself could answer — on the 
wheel ! or that old aristocrat, his father ! ” But 
others cried, — “ Hush ! Be still, Thraso ! These 
are no traitors. They fight too well for Athens.” 

“ It is most like Alcibiades,” a new voice sug- 
gested. “ No ! No ! ” exclaimed many, — “ not 
Alcibiades ! ” 


208 


G O R G O 


“ Why should he? ” I cried. “ He last of all men, 
for he has most at stake.” 

“ I suspect that Andocides,” shouted another. 
And while they bawled and brawled, even to blows, 
I made my way back to the house. 

My father was still in bed. He had slept late, 
dreaming away the wine, which he used of late more 
freely than formerly. But he sat up aghast when 
I told him. 

“ The gods will be terribly angered ! Unless these 
wretches are quickly punished, Athens herself will 
pay the penalty. And the people — they will run 
mad. Why did you seek to defend Alcibiades? It 
was rash; and I think him guilty.” 

“ Father,” I pleaded, “ does he not truly wish 
to sail ? ” 

“ Of course : he wishes to win more races at 
Olympia, and must buy new horses. His chest is 
empty ; therefore the ships must sail.” 

“ Would he, then, call down the curses of gods 
and men at such a moment, to blast his own best 
hopes ? ” 

“ He regards neither gods nor men.” My father 
lifted his hand to his brow. “ But you are right. 
He scruples at nothing, but this he did not do — 
neither he nor those who serve him.” 

“ But his enemies ? and those who wish to stay 
the ships ? ” 

“ Those most like him, who hate him, would do 
anything. Call me the servants. I will go out.” 

The fleet was now on the eve of sailing; the 


G O R G O 


209 

trireme of Lamachus hung on the edge of the outer 
harbour, and part of the troops were already em- 
barked. Yet even so Alcibiades could not escape 
public impeachment. Those whom I most suspected 
lay as silent as adders in the dust, but all the dema- 
gogues and loud-mouthed orators broke out upon 
him. That he had any share in the wrecking of 
the statues there was not the slightest evidence, 
but they denounced him in open assembly with 
frantic charges — a scorner of the gods, a be- 
trayer of the people — fiercely accusing him of that 
old violation of the mysteries of which there were 
then so many rumours. 

“ Shall such a man, perjured in the holiest oaths, 
doomed by the curse of the Mother of the Queen 
of Death, lead your armies to certain destruction ? ” 
So railed one of them ; and the priests of the temple 
foamed at the lips and writhed on their seats. 

.Then the officers cleared the assembly of all who 
were not admitted to the mysteries, and Pythonicus 
brought in a slave, who, he said, had seen Alcibi- 
ades and his drunken crew mimic the sacred scenes 
of the initiation as the sport of a revel, — in proof 
of which the fellow repeated many secrets and holy 
words that no slave should know. This I did not 
hear myself, for I was among those thrust out ; but 
when we flocked back, just as I reached my place, 
Alcibiades leaped upon the platform. 

“ It is false,” he shouted ; and his voice rang 
nobly, for he was shaken out of all his affectations. 
“ Both the charge and the evidence are false, — 


2 10 


G O R G O 


the desperate invention of enemies seeking to 
wreck my hopes and yours. They, not I, are the 
traitors ; they, too, are the blasphemers. What 
have you heard ? A slave, repeating forbidden 
words! Who taught him those words? I, Alcibi- 
ades? Never! Even those who call me traitor do 
not call me fool : have you put your trust in a fool ? 
No : the slave learned his lesson from those who 
needed his evidence — slave’s evidence, impiously 
forged against Alcibiades and Athens. Theirs is 
the sacrilege; they have betrayed the mysteries. 
And who else, so likely as they and others of their 
kind, have defiled our streets and incensed our 
gods ? ” 

Here he paused; and the hush that fell on the 
assembly was like the stillness of a chamber. Then 
came a rumble of applause, which grew to such 
a roar of feet and voices that the whole hill seemed 
to tremble. For the people still loved Alcibiades : 
who could hear his words, who could look upon 
his face, and doubt him? And now, within no 
longer space than an arrow might live in flight, 
the aspect of the case had changed. His enemies 
slunk and cowered like hounds when the sky is 
full of thunder. 

He, himself, stood smiling on the bema, more 
beautiful than any marble god. He flung open his 
mantle and bared his shining breast. “ Judge be- 
tween them and me,” he cried, “ and since the 
time is pressing, make no delay. If you believe me 
innocent, let me sail against Sicily with a name un- 


G O R G O 


2 I I 


stained; if you find me guilty, let me die to- 
morrow. Come: put me on trial at once; it is 
yours to give the verdict. Shall I go with the 
fleet to win victories for a city that trusts its chosen 
leader? or, shall I stay, to drink hemlock on the 
word of a slave, while another sails my trireme? ” 
And at this there arose a great cry, for the soldiers 
would follow no other. 

But Pythonicus, rallying somewhat, demanded 
that the slave be examined under torture, — which, 
indeed, was no more than his right. So the fel- 
low was given over to the tormentors ; and though 
he shrieked in his pain, for they showed him no 
mercy, he held fast to his story. Whereupon there 
was great confusion; for all knew that a slave 
speaks from the rack like the Pythia from the 
Delphic tripod, and even Alcibiades blanched. 
Again he pleaded for instant trial; but the priests 
rose up in a body to demand that there be no 
hasty action in a case such as this, while all the 
soldiers and most of the citizens murmured against 
delay. In the upshot nothing was settled except 
that Alcibiades must sail with the fleet : black or 
white, he could get no other verdict then. 

Three days later the triremes sailed, — and who 
was not there to see? All the people, and all above 
them or below them — all who hoped or feared, or 
loved or hated. Mothers, whose sons were on the 
decks, proud yet tearful, with veils flung back and 
straining eyes; fathers, leaning on canes, grieving 
that age had so crippled them ; merchants, grumbling 


2 I 2 


G O R G O 


at the cost, yet with rich trading ventures in the 
convoy; traitors, with a smiling sneer and ambig- 
uous phrases; labourers, hoarse with shouting; 
officials, full of pomp and bustle; image-breakers 
and priests, alike with pious faces. Citizens, 
aliens, even slaves, — all were there; not a hand- 
breadth of space was left vacant. 

Thrasybulus and I had locked arms; we were 
almost thrust over the edge of the wharf. “ I 
shall always hate my mother for this,” he said 
between laughing and crying, as he looked at the 
ships. 

The whole fleet was now heaving on the swell, 
the oars lifted and ready to strike, the decks aflash 
with armed men in full metal. Then the captains 
advanced, each with his golden cup, and at a sig- 
nal all poured such libations of rich, red wine that 
for a moment the green waves beneath them ran 
gory, while all the people raised their voices in a 
mighty prayer; yet from the very multitude, and 
the lack of unison, the paean moaned in our ears 
and died away with a wailing ululation. But its 
echo was suddenly pierced by the shrilling of the 
pipes from every galley; the poised oars swung 
against the water, and the keen beaks darted for- 
ward like a line of spears. The fleet started as if 
for a race; and the triremes did race all the way 
to ^Egina, — Lamachus leading, which must have 
vexed Alcibiades, while even Nicias could not keep 
his crew from competing. Yet when the war-ships 
were dim in the distance, the transports and mer- 


G O R G O 


213 

chantmen were still streaming out of the harbour, 
stretching after them over the sea in a cloudy band 
that dwindled and glimmered to the very offing. 

“ Look at them ! ” exclaimed Thrasybulus. “ Ath- 
ens will be the richest city in Hellas when all those 
come freighting back, full of slaves and the spoil of 
cities.” 

“ It is win or lose everything, now,” I said. 
“ We shall win all cities or lose our own.” 

“ Don't croak, Theramenes.” He turned upon 
me almost savagely. “ Before the gods, don’t 
croak just as the fleet is sailing. As for losing our 
city, look at those walls; you and I alone could 
save the city. And as for this Sicilian business, 
Nicias will hold down Alcibiades, and Alcibiades 
will spur up Nicias, and Lamachus will give a good 
push now and then, and talk common sense to both 
of them. That three could take Babylon; they 
will scoop up Syracuse like a rabbit in a net. Those 
islanders can’t fight; they’re mostly traders and 
don’t know how. But if they try it, Lamachus will 
drive them in, and Nicias will wall them up, and 
Alcibiades will persuade them to throw open their 
gates.” 

“ I believe he could do it — he if any one.” 

“ Then the rest will come to us on the run. I’ve 
learned all about those Sicilians. They can’t make 
a union; they hate each other like Thebans and 
Platseans.” 

We were now between the Long Walls, and 


G O R G O 


2 1 4 

Conon had joined us; he was not exactly of our 
set, but we both liked him. 

“ See here, Conon,” said Thrasybulus, still 
vexed. “ Theramenes has black bile to-day. He 
is afraid these walls are going to be battered down 
like the Hermae.” 

Conon glanced up at them and laughed. “ If 
ever they are, I'll undertake to build them again 
myself. Does he fancy that the Hermes gang have 
not yet had a surfeit 0‘f smashing? ” 

“ He has had a surfeit himself — of Boeotian 
eels, I should think. He listens for voices and 
watches the crows.” 

“ By the way, have you heard the last ? They 
have found new evidence. A fellow named 
Teucrus, a metic, who ran away the morning after 
the sacrilege, has come back to claim the reward. 
He tells a great story; it hits Alcibiades and two 
or three senators. The whole investigation is 
started again.” 

“ Ten thousand drachmas will always buy a 
story,” I answered, crossly. 

“ Yes,” said Thrasybulus, “ from those metics, 
especially. What do they care for Athens? I de- 
spise an informer.” 

“ The money has bought a fine panic, anyhow,” 
said Conon. “ Your lucky Alcibiades got off just 
in time. Some of the others have run for it; they 
didn’t even wait to see the ship-muster. What’s 
that?” 

We stopped, startled. Shrill shrieks were is- 


G O R G O 


215 

suing from within the city; then the melancholy 
cadences of a dirge, mingled with women’s cries. 

“ The gods avert it, that we meet a funeral,” 
said Thrasybulus in a fallen voice. “ I don’t 
study entrails and puzzle over oracles, like Nicias; 
but an omen like that would scare old Lamachus. 
If it’s a funeral all Athens will meet it, coming up 
from the harbour.” 

“ The funeral of Syracuse, perhaps,” sug- 
gested Conon. 

“ If it were, the mourning wouldn’t be in 
Athens. That’s a good turn, though, worth remem- 
bering to use with soldiers.” 

It was so good, in fact, that it eased our minds 
considerably. We went on — for there was no 
other way — and presently met a fantastic pro- 
cession of women, wailing, waving their arms and 
plucking at their hair. In the midst was borne 
a bier, and on it — no corpse of flesh and blood, 
but a corpse-like waxen effigy, which somehow 
seemed more gruesome than the thing it suggested. 
We stood close against a house-front to let it 
pass; and so many who were behind us did the 
same that the bier moved through an avenue of 
men. 

“ It is the Adonia,” whispered Thrasybulus, — 
“ the unluckiest day in all the year. What pos- 
sessed them to sail to-day? The women are 
mourning the death of Adonis in his prime.” 

We started on, driven forward by the press, but 


2 1 6 G O R G O 

the cries still jarred our ears. Conon spoke as 
if thinking aloud. 

“ It is worse than any ordinary funeral — much 
worse. That might be mere accident; this looks 
like fate.” 

“ I am almost glad I did not sail,” said Thrasy- 
bulus. 

“ I wish I had chanced it,” said I, “ with Al- 
cibiades. It may be that I could have helped him.” 

“ He admits — so they say — that you saved 
him from mistakes in Achsea.” 

“ Conon, did he say that ? ” and I felt a pang. 
Then — for I, too, had been pondering on the omen 
— “ was not that Adonis afterward restored to 
life? ” I asked. 

“Yes,” they answered, both in a breath — 
Thrasybulus and Conon. 

“ It is fated, I think, that Athens shall celebrate 
the Adonia, — and the corpse will not be waxen.” 

“ But the city will not perish ! ” 

“ Athens can never perish utterly,” I cried. 
“ The gods love her, as they loved Adonis. She 
would even rise from her scattered stones.” 


XVIII. 


Prison and Court 

B UT what had befallen Gorgo — radiant 
Gorgo ? How fared it, through all these 
years, with the wonderful rose-glowing 
maid who had kissed my lips in Sparta? What 
word had come from my plighted love — my sud- 
den, oath-bound bride — who had sworn to call me, 
and to wait? 

No tidings had ever come, — and none were 
expected. The drumming rap of a messenger upon 
our panels no longer shook my heart and tripped 
its steady oar-strokes; on the casket in which my 
pearly token lay, a dust-bloom had gathered. Eight 
years had passed without a whisper : it is hard to 
believe it now, — but Gorgo was almost forgotten. 
Her face still shone in my dreams — I have never 
lost her from my dreams; but it rose no more by 
day to blur the faces of others, and when the rare 
thought came I thought of her only so — as a 
dream. And who would keep faith with a dream? 

Indeed, it was at the house of Myrinna that I 
first learned of my danger. 

“ Go away, you great, clumsy hoplite,” she had 
217 


G O R G O 


2 18 

said to Thrasybulus, who was with me. “ You 
are in no danger ; but go and polish up your shield. 
I have something important to say to this haughty 
young aristocrat.” 

“ Indeed, he will be safer elsewhere,” I re- 
marked. For Thrasybulus was always too much 
in earnest in his trifling. 

“ I don’t care for his danger,” she pouted. “ He 
wearies me; and he’s such a rank democrat. I’m 
an aristocrat myself, even if I am a foreigner. It’s 
my nature.” 

“ You want Theramenes all to yourself,” he said, 
jealously; but which of the two he was really most 
jealous of I cannot say. 

“ Of course I do : go away now, and get me 
the news,” she commanded him. And he went. 

She was reclining on a couch, while I sat stiffly 
on a chair; for I did not more than half like her. 
A tabouret of wine and fruit was at her elbow. 
She was luxuriously arrayed from her embroidered 
slipper to her heavily perfumed hair. It was an 
open secret that she admired me; but to me the 
whole situation was rather sickish, and I shoved 
my feet uneasily on the floor. 

“ You are so cross,” she said, with a pretty little 
assumption of childish simplicity. “ First drink 
my health — both from one cup : see, it is here 
that my lips have touched the rim.” 

“ Oh, tell it out, whatever it is,” I cried roughly. 

She set down the goblet with a ringing jar. 
“ You are a great brute, Theramenion. Any one 


G O R G O 


219 

else would have taken it upon his knees. But 
you ” — she grew serious instantly — “ you are 
right. It is no time to toss kisses and throw cot- 
tabos when the hemlock cup is brewing. Come — 
you shall thank me, at least.’’ 

“ The hemlock ! ” 

“ Yes, you cold marble Eros, the hemlock. But 
don’t be afraid; it can’t chill a heart like yours. 
But, truly, it is in sight. You are suspected; your 
name has been mentioned.” 

I sprang from my chair. “ About the Hermge ? ” 

“ I don’t know. Yes — the Hermse, the mys- 
teries, anything sacrilegious; it is like all the rest. 
You have been intimate with Alcibiades ; isn’t that 
enough — for some of them ? I don’t blame you ; 
I admire him. I think that you and he look alike, 
only he’s rather taller — and not made of stone.” 

I stamped my foot. “ Is that all? What else? ” 

“ That’s the reason, but of course it isn’t all 
they say. You needn’t get angry; you won’t see 
me again very soon — if you ever do>. You’ll have 
to leave Athens, my Theramenion; if you don’t 
choose some other gate you’ll go out by the Dipy- 
lon, — and you know where that leads to.” 

“But what is it they say? Tell me quickly all 
you know of this.” And to hasten the matter I 
stooped to kiss her, but almost checked in the 
mawkish reek of perfumes that hung about her hair. 
She caught my head in her hands, held it fast for 
a moment, then pushed it away. 

“ Oh, that isn’t worth half an obol ! ” she cried — 


220 


G O R G O 


“ a chipped copper would pay for it ! Don’t you 
value your life more than that? You’ve never 
kissed any one: you don’t know how. I wonder 
if you could learn.” 

“ Would you have the Eleven find me here, tak- 
ing lessons ? ” 

“Do you think they would really look for you 
here?” she said, with such a smile of satisfaction 
that I ground my teeth. “ But no' : they would 
freeze you forever with their cursed hemlock; and 
I’m sure I don’t want to see you any colder.” 

“ Shall I seek an answer elsewhere? ” 

“ No, no ! you must either flee or hide. I wish ” 
— but she looked in my face and did not finish the 
suggestion. “ Well, the special charge is that you 
harboured that wretched little Melian atheist, Diago- 
ras, for whom a reward is offered.” 

“ I never so much as heard his name. I don’t 
know him from Pythagoras.” 

“ You couldn’t help knowing, if you did it. He’s 
a horrible misshapen little creature, as ugly as Cer- 
berus. They say that you even took him to a ban- 
quet, where he said all sorts of horrid things and 
scared everybody.” I started and flushed. “ There 
now! that colour is quite becoming to you. But 
you did it : any one can see that. And it’s like you, 
just as it would be like Alcibiades. For my own part 
I don’t care — not one of your silly kisses — for 
those peevish, helpless gods that they have to be 
so careful of ; but I wouldn’t dare say it, except to 
you. Oh, yes! I pray and make gifts and pour 


G O R G O 


22 I 


libations with the rest. Theramenion, where are 
you going? Don’t go yet. Why do you go? ” 

“ To demand a fair trial,” I answered, shortly. 

“ You mustn’t. You can’t get it. The people 
are frantic. Alcibiades himself wouldn’t dare face 
them now. They say the Thebans are mustering 
on the border. Everybody thinks there’s treason 
somewhere. Men like you run out of the market as 
soon as they see the senators gathering — and you 
are such an aristocrat. Oh! I shall never see you 
again ! ” And she broke out wailing and sobbing. 
I remember noting, even at such a moment, that her 
cheeks were not painted after all; but I left her 
without more words. 

I had not gone far when I met Nicanor, of the 
Eleven. I observed that he looked carefully away 
from me, but I went straight up to him. 

“ Do you want me? ” I asked. 

He seemed reluctant to speak. “ Indeed, there 
is a warrant out,” he said, “ but 1 didn’t see you. 
Why did you press before me ? ” 

“ I want my trial, if I am accused.” 

“ It isn’t what I’d want, just now. I’d have found 
occasion to visit family friends in Thebes for awhile. 
But since you’ve presented yourself I suppose I 
must take you.” And he led me away to prison. 

They shut me in a great barren chamber of stone, 
already full to overflowing, and for the most part 
with men that I knew. Not one of us had been con- 
victed of any crime, much less proved guilty. We 
had all been arrested on the bare word of informers, 


222 


G O R G O 


some on the merest suspicion. Not that all were 
innocent — far from it ; but innocent or guilty, as 
things were going, we stood about equal chances 
for the hemlock. 

And here, for more than a month, we lay huddled 
in a gathering ferment of anger and despair. Often 
the women came, for they alone had free access — 
mothers and sisters and wives — wetting the dingy 
pavement with tears we were too proud to shed; 
but most of us wept with them before the thing was 
ended. 

Each night we were fettered, since the place was 
not otherwise sufficiently secure; and each morn- 
ing, when our shackles were loosed, our limbs were 
so numb from the stark clamping that we could 
scarcely stand. For by day we were allowed to 
move about as we liked ; and our chief occupation 
was to hunt out new prisoners and learn the latest 
developments. This was almost our only means of 
information, as few of the women could tell us 
anything intelligible; they could only make every- 
thing worse by their heart-breaking lamentations, 
bewailing us as if we were already dead. And in 
such a search, one evening, just before the fettering, 
I found him I least desired to see, — my father, 
sitting against the wall, his knees drawn up under 
his chin and his white beard flowing over them. He 
had been too zealous, it seems, for his son ; and that, 
in an obvious aristocrat, savoured of treason. So 
a vile informer, disappointed in a brazen demand for 
hush-money, had marked him as a notable victim; 


G O R G O 


223 

our city swarmed with these fellows. They had 
even dared to talk of torture; but that, because many 
murmured, was spared. 

Then it was that the hate implanted by my grand- 
father rushed up from the depths of my soul, and I 
cursed the people. Had I not just cause? The 
more wonder is that I ever again could find it in 
my heart to trust them. Yet they were not wholly 
without excuse; there were traitors enough among 
us. But we all grew ripe for treason, and full of 
the rage and bitterness of murder, as we lay in that 
prison. Is it so strange that we began to dream of 
revolution — that we watched and prayed and 
plotted for our day of vengeance? 

The suspense had grown quite intolerable. At 
last, after I had held a long debate with Charmides, 
he and I went together to Andocides, his cousin. 

“ Andocides,” I said, “ you, if any one, know the 
facts about this deadly business of the Hermse.” 

“ I was helpless in bed by a fall from my horse,” 
he protested, violently. “ I have slaves who* will 
prove it under torment.” His eyes wavered more 
than ever ; his face was gaunt and wild, with sudden 
writhings, like that of a madman. But we were used 
to these things. 

“ I know that you know, and you know how I 
know,” I insisted, coolly. “We have not, however, 
selected you, Andocides, as a man who could easily 
be persuaded to sacrifice himself for the common 
good. No : this is our plan. Turn informer : you 
can do that, and we all ask it of you. By this course 


G O R G O 


224 

you will save your beloved self, to begin with ; it is 
not a very sweet path, but you can tread it, and we 
are none of us dainty now. Then testify what you 
like — lies or truth, it doesn’t much matter, only 
testify, and satisfy the people. Denounce yourself, 
of course — you’ll be quite immune — and ten or 
twelve others, as many as may be necessary. Make 
your own selection: guilty or innocent, sacrifice 
whom you will; only get the rest of us out of this. 
Better that a few drink the hemlock and done with 
it, than that all of us rave and rot here.” 

This and much more I said to him, urging the 
matter with strenuous insistence, while Charmides 
supported me with his utmost influence; and in the 
end we prevailed. I had selected Andocides because 
I believed him the only man of all in that den who 
would consent to play the part; and I was right. 
Even he was very reluctant; but he did it. How 
much truth he told only he and his victims knew; 
but those whom he indicated presently went out 
feet foremost, and the rest walked free, — my 
father among them. I myself was detained some- 
what longer because the charge against me was a 
separate issue, but the public excitement was now 
so much allayed that I was confident I could vin- 
dicate myself. 

The delay was hard to bear. I was growing thin 
and weak, my hair was ragged, my cheeks were 
bleached with prison pallor; but at length the day 
of my trial came and I was led before the dicastery. 
The free air lifted my spirit like wine, yet I walked 


G O R G O 


225 

with half-closed eyes, and my feet so faltered that 
I leaned on the arm of Nicanor. 

“ Put a bold front on it, young man,” he whis- 
pered, in my ear,“ but speak good words and don’t 
be ashamed to beg a little. You are coming out of 
this business better than I feared.” 

As we entered the court I observed that the lintel 
was blue, which I thought a good sign. The place 
seemed strangely light. The jury were already 
arriving, giving up their painted staves and receiving 
their leaden checks. Soon the whole five hundred 
were sworn and on the benches. Behind them a 
great crowd pressed against the rail. Nicanor kept 
close by me, but my father quickly had me in his 
arms and many friends gathered round us. Then 
the Royal Archon, who presided in cases such as 
this, opened the roll which lay on the table before 
him and signalled to the herald. 

It was the first time that I had ever stood within 
the bar of a law court ; but there is no such novelty 
about a trial in Athens that I need tell all that was 
said and done that day. Pisander, I found, was my 
chief accuser; and I was rather glad of this, for 
although he was a clever speechmaker I thought 
that so notorious a liar and coward might easily be 
discredited. But I was mistaken : who, indeed, ever 
could predict the humour or the judgment of a 
democratic jury? 

Pisander, of course, spoke first. He proved 
readily enough the facts of the banquet — which I 
did not deny ; for the rest, he dealt mainly in proba- 


226 


G O R G O 


bilities. He dwelt heavily on my associates, — 
especially Alcibiades. It grieved him, no doubt, that 
he could not show that this “ mystery-profaning 
profligate ” was one of the company on that night, 
but he made the best of it. “ I have learned,” he 
declared, “ that it was no other than Alcibiades who 
introduced that god-detested wretch, Diagoras, to 
the culprit.” The idea that I did not know who the 
man was he utterly scouted. “ As well might the 
impious mutilators of your gods, with whom this 
excellent youth was so familiar, deny that they knew 
their deed was a heaven-defying sacrilege ! ” For 
he must needs bring in the Hermse ! He even made 
the fact of my imprisonment a presumption against 
me. Then he sneered at my politics — though his 
own were not above suspicion — and pointed scorn- 
fully toward my father and our friends. 

“ Of such origin and with such intimates,” he 
said, in conclusion, “ a rioter by night, a haunter 
of the chambers of sophists by day, an enemy of the 
people always — is it anything strange that he also 
consorts with an atheist whom the gods have cursed 
with the visible marks of their anger and the city 
has justly banned? Together they mounted the 
stairway of your sacred Acropolis — the hideous 
foreign dwarf upon whom the gods have visited 
their execration, and this son of aristocrats. To- 
gether they stood in the holy temple of Athena, be- 
neath the very eyes of your protecting deity; and 
together they jeered and denied her godhead! Be- 
hold him now, — his hollow eye, his shaking limbs, 


G O R G O 


227 

his pallid, guilt-confessing face? Has not the wrath 
of Heaven already begun its work upon him? Take 
heed, citizens of Athens, lest the vengeance of gods 
already hotly incensed fall upon you too, and upon 
this city — if you too shield an atheist and acquit 
this scoffer.” 

He demanded death as the penalty; and it was 
easy to see that he had made a deep impression. 
In that mad time an accuser’s task was light, for 
any charge of sacrilege, however baseless, seemed 
instantly to horrify the hearer into belief. 

My defence, I suppose, was weak. I protested 
that I knew neither the man’s name nor his character. 
I denied that I had participated in any impiety. I 
showed that the stranger, who called himself Ap- 
teryx, had left the banquet alone, and that I had 
never been seen with him since. For proof I called 
back some of my accuser’s own witnesses, — he who 
served me best being Socrates. 

“Apteryx! a likely name!” blustered Pisander. 
“ How dare you testify before this court that you 
saw no evidence of their complicity? ” he demanded, 
in a rage. “ Beware, old sceptic, lest you too be 
brought before the Royal Archon.” 

“ And are you,” said Socrates, “ who thus accuse 
others of impiety,” looking him steadily in the eye, 
“ yourself so wanting in reverence for the gods that 
you seek by threats to perjure a witness who has 
sworn to the gods? Take care, my friend, lest, 
while professing this zeal for religion, you be guilty 


228 


G O R G O 


of the greater blasphemy.” And at that Pisander 
dropped him hastily, for the topic was perilous. 

But if I had gained any advantage I soon cast it 
away. The constant slurring reference to Alcibiades 
had provoked me, and I made, as I thought, a clever 
turn. “ He taunts me,” I cried, “ with the friendship 
of the foremost citizen of Athens! Well, I avow it. 
Is it a crime to be the friend of him whom the whole 
people trust? Is he whom you have honoured 
beyond all others an outcast whom none may touch 
without pollution? Will you listen while dastards 
revile your chosen leader as if he were a branded 
criminal? ” 

But as I spoke their faces grew black, and a great 
hubbub arose; some even pressed forward as if to 
pluck me from the platform. But my father was 
before them all, springing to my side, explaining 
with swift words in my astonished ear how Alci- 
biades had been recalled for trial, had fled to the 
enemy, had been condemned in absence, and was 
now a traitorous exile, his country’s worst foe. I 
was quite overcome; I could not recover myself. 
My tongue was silenced; my thoughts were all in 
disarray, like a broken phalanx. 

Then my father stood forth, and as soon as he 
could get a hearing pleaded in my stead, excusing 
my ignorance, urging his services and mine in the 
war, beseeching them with tears; but they listened 
coldly. Others followed in much the same strain, 
praying the dicasts not to be too harsh with what 
they called my youthful follies. But when the jury 


G O R G O 


229 

had voted and the ballots were poured from the urn 
and counted, more than three hundred were for con- 
viction. The cup of hemlock seemed almost at my 
lips. 

But the imminence of the peril had brought me to 
myself again. It was now my privilege to propose 
an alternative penalty, — which the jury might ac- 
cept if so inclined. My father wished to speak for 
me — to propose a fine of ten talents — exile — 
anything short of death. But I brushed him aside. 

“ Men of Athens,” I said, “ this contest of oratory 
is now ended. You have given my opponent the 
verdict. You have decided rightly. He made the 
better speech.” A hum of surprise arose, but I con- 
tinued without a pause. “ He has made the better 
speech, but he has lied. You all know that as well 
as I do.” They almost broke out upon me there, 
but I raced on. “ I am no orator : lying is his regu- 
lar business.” Some one laughed. “ He has made 
the better speech because he is the better liar. 
Gentlemen, every one of you knows it.” The laugh 
became general : the thing had caught their fancy. 
I took a deep breath and went on. 

“ Still, you have condemned me : you could not 
well do otherwise. But now that the question of 
the penalty is reached, I am sure that you will listen 
to plain, fair words, and do no injustice.” 

The jury were listening with all their ears : the 
crowd beyond almost broke down the bar in their 
eagerness to hear. My father’s eyes stood wide 


230 


G O R G O 


with amazement ; Pisander’s were snapping mustard. 
But Pisander had ceased to signify. 

“ I accept the penalty : let it be death.” The 
assembly groaned ; my father paled ; Pisander 
looked stunned. “ I accept the penalty : but, fellow 
citizens, let the enemy inflict it — if they can.” A 
cheer started, but I cut it short. “ If I am to die 
let it be in the service of my city. You need — 
and there never was greater need — men who can 
fight for Athens. This glib Pisander can’t help 
you — the poltroon ! ” There were mingled shouts 
and laughter. His craven temper was well enough 
known. 

“ Or, if you choose, let it be exile, — only let 
it be where I can still serve my country. My father 
whispers that Nicias has sent for more men — horse- 
men especially.” I faced the dicastery. “ Gentle- 
men of the jury, I propose as my penalty that I be 
exiled — to Syracuse ; and that I sail with the next 
detachment.” 

Then the cheers broke loose; dicasts and spec- 
tators alike stood up and tossed their arms and 
shouted. When the great waxen tablet had been 
passed through the jury there was scarcely a long 
line on it. All were short; my proposal had been 
accepted. 

Then suddenly my strength was gone, and the 
court-room grew darker than my prison. But I felt 
myself in my father’s arms; and we wept together 
like comrades after a hard-fought battle. 


XIX. 


A Waxen Riddle 


T HRASYBULUS remonstrated with me. 
“ There’s no need of your leaving home now 
unless you choose. There wasn’t any penalty, 
really; they just meant to acquit you. You’ve made 
a great hit with them.” 

But I insisted on keeping my word to the letter. 
Even my father approved of this. 

“ Go, my son,” he said. “ The camp before Syra- 
cuse, I think, will be a safer place than Athens in 
these days.” 

Almost a year had passed since the sailing of the 
fleet, and little, it seemed, had been accomplished. 
The people were fretful and restless; their impa- 
tience grew with each dispatch. Thrasybulus voiced 
it in his own way. 

“ We should have had all Sicily by this time, if 
Alcibiades had stayed. If they were going to offer 
him poison they might at least have waited till he 
had taken Syracuse. It’s a great mistake; I 
wouldn’t go now if I could. I don’t mean any dis- 
respect to the Hermae ” — and he lowered his tone 
— “ but I wish they had been smashed in the time 

231 


232 


G O R G O 


of Solon. And those priests, — they are not half so 
holy as they think. You’ll probably meet the pious 
Nicias coming back,” he concluded, “ with an oracle 
for an excuse.” 

But the mass of the people still trusted Nicias, — 
a really honest man was so rare; and though they 
murmured when he wrote demanding cavalry and 
more money, six triremes were made ready at once. 
Two hundred and fifty of us climbed the ladders, 
carrying our bridles; the horses were to be found 
for us in Sicily, where they were said to be abundant 
and of uncommon size and strength. There was 
also a troop of horse-archers embarked with us, 
mostly mercenaries and slaves, among whom I en- 
rolled Golas, though I had my doubts about his 
riding. 

And now, with our waving fins of fir outspread, 
we were swinging and balancing over the heaving 
purple, which ran so smoothly that no oar missed its 
stroke. The bird-winds, I remember, were blowing, 
the light gusts now and then flinging back the spray- 
spurts tossed from our prow; and just as the last 
white gleam of Sunium was dying in the offing, a 
long stream of storks flickered between us and the 
sun, their black shadows swimming across our planks 
like a shoal of strange fishes. This was the first 
of all my voyaging, yet I found the soft roll of 
the swell most soothing; and never since, even 
in the stormiest weather, have I lost my love of the 
lift and fall of the waves, or been in any way 
troubled by it, unless I lay in chains. So I kept the 


G O R G O 


233 

open deck and gave my body to its spring as a rider 
gives to the stride of a galloping horse — eagerly 
asking of those about me the name of each peaked 
islet or cloudy promontory or nestling town. For 
here stretched the empire of Athens, and I wished 
to know its unmarked watery courses as I knew the 
passes of Attica. 

But still more I observed the ship itself and studied 
its ways, and especially, when the screens were off, 
loved to look down into the rowers’ gallery, watch- 
ing the triple ranges of sinewy backs as they swayed 
and strained to the rhythm of the pipe. It was like 
a deep trough full of eels, so astir with the bobbing 
of heads and the wriggle of arms and legs that I 
could scarcely distinguish those on the lower 
thwarts. Golas had at first been placed in the second 
bank, where he plucked his oar through the water 
with incredible strength, but without willingness or 
skill, clashing his blade against the others and some- 
times striking the face of the man behind him with 
his close-cropped skull. At last he burst both the 
fir and the strap with one fell wrench, and still 
grasping the splintered handle plunged backward 
through the frightened thalamites to the bottom 
of the pit, throwing the rest into such disorder that 
the whole ship jarred and veered. 

After that I had him excused from such service; 
and during the rest of the voyage he mainly sat in 
the hold shaping long arrows from spar-timber — 
when he was not too ill — and grinding to proper 
form and balance the hard steel heads with which 


234 


G O R G O 


I had furnished him. These tempered heads were 
the only improvement he ever would accept; and 
even these he would not use as they came from the 
hammer of the smith, but rubbed each one upon a 
stone till it was fashioned exactly to his taste, — on 
what principle I know not. 

We made great progress that first day, reach- 
ing Cythera at nightfall; and there we sheltered. 
The Spartans were stirring again on the coast, they 
told us. When we put out in the morning the snowy 
peaks of Taygetus were in plain view, up the valley, 
and the dawn-glow which I so well remembered was 
upon them. With that came a sense of the nearness 
of GorgO'. I had not thought of her thus for years ; 
it was as if she stood upon the hills and beckoned. 
In Athens she had always seemed remote, like fig- 
ures seen across a wide expanse of water, which ap- 
pear no bigger than clay puppets, too small to be 
alive and real. But now I felt her very presence; 
the warm sunshine was full of it. 

As we rounded the rocky cape — where a school 
of Arion’s dolphins leaped to the sound of our pipes, 
though the music was none of the sweetest — the 
sea grew much rougher, and the choppy waves, 
squelching among the oar-blades, made the rowing 
very difficult; but it was still broad day when we 
reached the harbour at Pylos. Here we put in, both 
for shelter and to deliver instructions to the garri- 
son, sailing close past the island where the Spartans 
had been taken and beaching on the very sand-spit 
where Brasidas had lost his shield. Many landed, 


G O R G O 


23 5 

but I remained on shipboard; and just at dusk, as 
I sat on the ledge of the after gangway gazing 
back at Taygetus, one of the under-officers of 
the fort came toward me down the slope. 

“ Do any among you know of a certain fair 
young Athenian called the son of Hagnon ? ” 

I sprang up. “ I am Hagnon’s son, and my age 
is what you see; but I lay no claim to fairness.” 

He laughed. “ I follow the phrase as it was given 
to me,” he said, “ with this, which has come through 
much peril for that same son of Hagnon, fair or 
otherwise.” He held up a sealed diptych of cypress- 
wood, wound about with fine linen threads. 

“ It was brought by a fugitive helot, who would 
tell us nothing of the sender, but swore by the Car- 
neian god he would bear it to Athens, if need be, 
for faithful delivery. We preferred that he bear a 
shield, as we are short-handed; so*, to content him, 
I gave my oath to forward it in some way.” 

“ The name? ” 

“ Names are cheap, remember. Botas he called 
himself.” 

But the name was not feigned. I knew it as that 
of the helot who had served me in the house of 
Rhyzon. My blood surged. 

“ Can I see him ? ” 

“ No : he is absent on a raid. He will be away 
three days at least; and, as doubtless you under- 
stand, many never get back to us. But my duty ends 
here.” He came beneath the stern and passed up 
the tablet. 


G O R G O 


236 

It was sealed with white clay, indented by the 
pressure of a double row of pearls; Gorgo had laid 
her wrist upon it for a signet. I set my knife 
against the threads and parted the panels with 
trembling hands; but although I could see that 
letters were traced on the black surface of the wax, 
the gloom had become too deep for reading. So I 
was forced to wait, having no light nor any means 
of procuring one; and before the sun had risen the 
next morning we were far out upon the sea. Then, 
lying upon my face in the shadow of the great square 
sail — for the wind favoured us now — I forgot the 
wide sparkle around me and the distant, drifting 
coast, quite lost in the message of Gorgo. 

It was written with a skilless hand, in odd, angu- 
lar Laconian characters and Dorian idiom. The 
purport at first seemed disappointing, and the word- 
ing strange. For after some study thus I read it : — 

This she of Sparta writes — that was called — 
such a perilous thing to say — like the beautiful 
Athena — but he said she would not be offended — 
to him who called her so, whose name she knows not 
— nor if he lives. For he did not tell his name — 
but surely he lives. It is Hagnons son, of Athena's 
city — and he is like Paris of Troy to look upon. If 
the one reading is not like that let him not read — 
for it is not he. But if it is truly he — then between 
him and this maid were rash words spoken — which 
it was better, perhaps, to forget. But it is for him 
to do the forgetting. And if he has forgotten let 


G O R G O 


237 

him not read — for why should he read? Yet if he 
can , let him forget — for to have promised and al- 
ways to remember is so terrible. Biot if he shall do 
that he swore to do it is more terrible — and if his 
life is of any use to him as things are now, he must 
not. But if life is not good to him so, and he will, 
it is soon the time. And she who is writing writes 
thus and not in another way because of fear. Per- 
haps — if you are he — you will think there is some- 
thing beneath all this — these words are so shallow 

— and perhaps, if they seem too cold, you can find 
some way to warm them. But unless you remember 

— or if you are sorry — do not try to understand 

— put all on the fire quickly, wax and wood. And 
what you took from Sparta put also in the tire — 
for if ever another should have it those words which 
were spoken would cling and be a curse to that 
woman. 

I puzzled long over this. Surely the gods had 
dulled my understanding. That something lay hid- 
den here I saw plainly, but I could not make it out 

— not then. 

Yet not all was a riddle. She had kept her troth; 
she had not forgotten. And I — I read and read 
again, with burning cheeks, till the shape of each 
letter was clearer in my heart than on the wax, 
and the more I pondered those hesitating, halting 
phrases the more deeply I was moved. She was 
calling me; this was her summons. And I, who had 
sworn by all the gods — what could I do? I 


G O R G O 


238 

looked back over the interminable tumble of the 
waves, but even love could find no bridge. For I 
loved — I had never ceased to love her. My spirit 
groaned with the straining timbers as the ship 
laboured onward. I renewed my oath : I cursed 
my helplessness. At last, in the sheer desperation 
of one who thrusts down a goading memory and 
buries it in the darkest nook of his soul, I crept 
far forward through the shadows of the hold where 
the sheathing narrows to the ram, and hiding my 
tablet in a cavity among the braces, there I left it. 

So the sun went down on Gorgo’s message. We 
did not put to shore that night, but sailed on through 
the moonlight, while I paced the deck and watched 
the dancing lights, holding down my thoughts like 
one who fights with madness. At last, with a mind 
as cold and vacant as the paling sky, I stumbled 
down to my cot. 

When I woke we were moored in the harbour at 
Corcyra ; the market was already full, and we were 
taking on supplies. Then we launched out into the 
open. The shore sunk in the mists of the offing ; the 
clouds ran low, and though the noonday sun was 
burning a great tawny hole through the midst of 
them it seemed as if setting in mid-course. The 
men grew restless; few had ever before been out 
of sight of land. The ship quaked and jarred on 
those uneasy waters like a wagon on a stony road. 
I stood by the pilot and helped him with the steering- 
oars. 


G O R G O 


239 

“ Did you hear what they were saying in Cor- 
cyra?” I asked him. 

“ Hear them,” he grunted, pulling hard on the 
sweeps as we wallowed through a wave-trough, — 
“ I heard and saw and smelt. I can smell out the 
weather on any sea. Steady there. We have saved 
a day to lose seven, if not ships and men. So I told 
your horse-trierarch, but the landsman was too 
wise for me. Now hold hard.” 

For some moments we struggled with the steer- 
ing-gear. He laughed as I gasped in the spray. 
“ You’ll be well seasoned, lad, if ever we ground 
our keels in Sicily.” 

“ You smell a storm, then.” 

“ Smell it — a water- jug would smell it unless 
its nose was broken off. So I told yon land-loper, 
but he thought he smelt a bigger storm in Athens. 
Said I, ‘ My name’s Meletus, but I don’t care. My 
name’s Meletus, but steering’s my business, and I’ll 
pilot you down Styx and Phlegethon, too, if that’s 
the orders. But,’ said I, 4 this isn’t like cruising 
round among the islands. There’s a big barbarian 
wind coming down right out of Illyria, and it’ll blow 
you to Africa if it doesn’t blow you to Acheron.’ 
That’s what I told him.” 

And Meletus spoke no lying oracle ; his nose was 
infallible. Soon the ship was rolling like a log, and 
four strong men were needed at the helm. The 
water rushed in at the ports, and we closed them 
— first the lower tier, then all — and set up the 
storm screens. The long sweeps were brought out 


G O R G O 


240 

and worked from the deck to aid the pilot ; but even 
so we could scarcely hold our course. The day went 
out on our right ; the lanterns too went out, drowned 
in the smother of brine; and still we rushed on 
through Stygian night and the roar of Cocytus, with 
rearings on unseen waves and reeling plunges down 
slopes of darkness. Below all was tumult. We 
lurched from wall to wall with groans and curses; 
not even the sick could keep their beds. The ballast- 
stones swayed and ground; the swash of the bilge 
drenched everything. As many as could keep their 
feet toiled in relays with the bailing-buckets, but 
more rolled helpless amid the sliding debris. Then 
a great wave roared across the deck with a shock 
like the fall of a leaden dolphin ; then another, and 
still another. The ship writhed on its billowy 
rack; the water gushed down from every crevice 
and rose till it swirled about our ankles; but after 
a shuddering pause we lifted, heaved upon a crest, 
and felt again the steady gallop of the swell. The 
motion was smoother now, yet little hope was left 
in that black hold. The vows that went up from 
its reek would have bankrupted Ecbatana, but some 
who prayed the less bailed the harder. 

At last, when morning glimmered in the chinks 
of the storm-guards and hatches, I groped my way to 
the deck. The wind had fallen, but the very first 
glance made me giddy, for the ship was bound- 
ing skyward and toppling downward amid hills 
and chasms such as I had never seen on water. 
At the stern stood Meletus, still plying the sweeps, 


G O R G O 


241 


belted with a section of rope made fast to a 
stanchion. His helpers were gone; his action was 
wooden and his face as empty of expression as 
a sheep’s. 

“ Bring wine,” he called. 

I finally reached him with a leather flagon, and 
held the oars while he drained the contents undi- 
luted. 

“What, water! Nay, lad, I am full of it. The 
mixing-bowl is within me. I am already a tank for 
fishes.” But his face grew red. “ Mother of Bac- 
chus ! ” he muttered, presently, “ that was no drink 
for frogs, but Nissean hot from the pitch. It has 
calked my ribs like a coat of tar.” 

He did not relieve me at the helm, but sunk back 
on his bench directing every turn. I could not 
choose; I obeyed in a sweat of terror. At length 
he broke into a laugh. 

“ Isn’t this better than jogging on a nag? Here’s 
a sea-horse worth riding.” 

I too was beginning to' feel the wonderful thrill of 
it. But after a little, “ Where are those that were 
with you ? ” I asked. 

“ Diving among the dolphins.” He spoke grumly. 
“ What would you have ? Every sport has its haz- 
ard. The sea takes toll.” 

“ And the rest of the ships ? ” 

He pointed out two of them tossing in the dis- 
tance. “ They’ll all find Catana if they’re afloat,” 
he said. “ They can’t miss such a beacon asATtna.” 

The men from below were now crawling into 


view. They cried to all the gods as they saw the 
sea. 

“ Hush and hide yourselves,” roared Meletus. 
“ Dolts ! have you no discretion ? Would you bawl 
to the gods to founder us for a shipload of liars ? ” 
Then, turning, “ Stay by me, lad. You have legs 
and a heart, — too good a man to consort with 
prancing beasts that steer by the snout. Stay by, 
and I’ll teach you to wag the tail of a ship; before 
we reach port you shall curb the sea-horse.” 

He kept his promise. I did not cast away my 
bridle, but am ever in doubt which steed I like the 
better. 

Four days we steered by the sun and stars; it 
was still so rough that we used but a single bank of 
oars. Our water was scant, our food spoiled by the 
sea; the hold was full of murmurs. Even Meletus 
chafed when the wine ran low, though he answered 
all complaints in his usual fashion : 

“ Hitch on with your horses if you want to tow. 
I’m only a pilot. We’re headed landward, for I 
smell the fume, but I can’t reef up a thousand stades 
of sea.” 

During the fourth night he roused me. A red 
banner hung on the edge of the sky. 

“ Is it dawn already?” I asked, still in a daze 
of dream- fog. 

He sniffed his contempt. “ Do you seek dawn 
where you saw the sunset ? The brute you ride has 
better wit. ’Tis the chimney of the earth-god, light- 


G O R G O 


243 

ing upward. Nearer, you may hear the hissing of 
his forge/’ 

“ Tis ./Etna,” I cried. 

Its dark cone rose on the horizon as the morning 
brightened behind us; the ruddy glow paled to a 
pennant of smoke, and this first caught the sunlight. 
Then the vast mass cast its shadow far inland, snow- 
streaked at the summit, belted with green below, 
sloping down to the cliffs that beat back the sea 
along ten leagues of coast. Leftward, close at its 
foot, lay Catana, like a nest full of eggs, — a low 
wall ringing a jumble of whited houses. The bight 
of the shore was lined with war-ships; the whole 
fleet of Nicias was moored there. 

Thither we sailed; but when we had landed the 
earth seemed less steady than the deck. All that 
day the island heaved beneath my feet, and the fum- 
ing mountain wavered like a swaying mast. 

“ Is it always thus in Sicily ? ” I asked. “ Is it 
the rage of Typhon? ” 

Meletus grinned broadly. “ ’Tis in the eyes,” he 
said. “ To such as stomach well the sea the god 
sends this land-sickness. I too am rolling, and my 
feet hit not well on the pavement. ’Tis the mark 
of a sailor born, and wine is the cure of it. Let us 
drink, lad, before we part.” 


XX. 


Days of Battle 

O OKOOK,” said Galas, “not, not” — and 
repeated it many times. Never before had 
I seen Golas frightened, not even on ship- 
board, though what his dumb soul suffered I know 
not. Now he cowered abjectly and grew rebellious 
in sheer terror. I had ordered him to mount his 
horse. 

For Nicias, when we reached Catana, was away 
on an inland raid with most of the troops. I at 
once procured horses — the best money would buy 
— and tried to avail of the interval by teaching 
Golas to ride. A hard task I found it; the horse 
feared Golas even as Golas feared the horse. Once 
astride he fell forward and clutched the animal about 
the neck, so that she bounded off like a deer; but 
his frantic throttling soon brought her to the ground. 
Then, while she stood quivering under the hand of 
the groom, Golas would crawl at my feet and flatten 
himself in the dust. I did not spare him. Again 
and again I forced him to mount; and at last, in 
a measure, I gained my end. Not that he ever 
became a true horse-archer; shoot from a horse’s 


244 


G O R G O 


245 


back he never would. When it came to that he 
would always spring down, set his foot on the bridle, 
and so let fly his arrows. Yet in time he learned 
to ride quite boldly, though in apish attitudes, with 
both hands almost on the bit. Two good steeds he 
spoiled with fright and wresting at the jaw, but 
the third took kindly to' him. She would follow 
at call; a sort of love grew between them; and 
finally I believe he valued himself more on his rid- 
ing than on the wonderful bowmanship which in 
him seemed mere instinct. For whatever mark he 
chose, within the wide compass of his weapon, he 
hit as surely and easily as when an artist stretches 
out his hand and touches here or there on a painted 
panel. 

One day, when we were thus engaged with our 
horses on the plain before the wall, a great dust- 
cloud grew in the south, and out of it flashed the 
spears and helmets of the Syracusan cavalry. They 
bore down on us swiftly, but we made the gate in 
time; then, as we thronged the wall, their leader 
rode forth as if to parley. 

“ We hear,” he called, “ that you are merely 
come to settle in Catana. The city is small. We 
invite you to Syracuse.” 

Our captain stood near me. “We shall pay you 
a visit,” he bellowed back in a flush of anger. 
“ When we rap on the gates you may hear more.” 

The fellow put a hand to his ear. “We shall all 
troop out to welcome you,” he cried, “ but I did not 
catch the date. Is it this year or next?” 


G O R G O 


246 

Our captain, too hot for words, signed to the 
men. In an instant the air was so clouded with 
missiles that the figure of the horseman blurred 
behind them; but all fell short. Even the leaden 
slugs of the slingers only beat up the dust before 
him and rolled about his horse’s hoofs. He turned 
his back upon us in derision. 

“ Shoot,” I whispered to Golas, “ but not to 
kill.” 

I had scarcely finished when the mellow bow- 
string sounded. The raider flung up both hands 
to his helmet, whence the horsehair plume leaped 
off in a flurry of shreds. He scoffed no more; he 
spurred away like one who flees an ambush. Al- 
ready another shaft was on his track, sailing high, 
so long in flight that I thought it fallen, — when, 
with a spurt from his scored flank, the scurrying 
horse sheered so sharply that the rider pitched head- 
long, yet leaped up without pause and ran on the 
sandals of Hermes. Indeed, he almost outran his 
steed. The whole troop gathered round him as he 
reached them. 

We were shaking with laughter, and the bow 
laughed with us. It sprung like a mainstay plucked 
by the storm ; a shimmer shot upward from the 
string. I found myself counting slowly; at six- 
teen the distant horses reared and plunged. And 
still the mirthful psean of the bow rang out, its 
stinging jests still droned on the air; and the Syra- 
cusans, no longer feeling safe at any range, scat- 
tered from the plain in dusty panic. 


G O R G O 


247 

After this the praise of Golas was upon all 
tongues. The troopers swore by Golas and Apollo 
in a breath; wherever we passed he was stared 
at with an admiration which he heeded no more 
than a hound at his master’s heel. And chiefly 
because of Golas, who stood stock-still and grunted 
like a pig if any other bade him ride or shoot, I 
myself was made captain of the mounted bows. 

The town was aswarm with soldiers now, for 
Nicias had returned; his pallid face glistened with 
anger, they told me, when he learned of . the in- 
solence of the Syracusans. He was convinced, at 
last, that it was time to strike; and when Nicias 
did strike he struck shrewdly, a quick, hard blow, 
like a boxer, who, after a weary while of idle fend- 
ing, has caught his opponent off guard. Much, 
doubtless, was due to old Lamachus, whose burn- 
ing eyes and grizzled hair ever reminded me of 
a pit of coals that glows the hotter for its crust 
of ashes. He hastened from man to' man and ship 
to ship; he beat the laggards like a Spartan; a 
slave who attempted to signal the enemy he struck 
dead. In three days all was ready. 

We boarded our galleys at nightfall, and the 
great fleet, crowded with men, moved silently down 
the coast. At midnight we beached our keels on 
a headland close above Syracuse, and while the 
seamen fenced the isthmus with vine-stakes the 
army deployed on the plain. With the first clear 
light we struck out for the heights that rise behind 
the city. 


G O R G O 


248 

Already the Syracusans were astir : faces showed 
on the walls ; a watcher waved frantic signals from 
the cliffs. But we had a long start and the shorter 
course. I raced up the steep at the head of my 
Scythians; the foot-soldiers followed at a steady 
run. I gained the summit through a rocky gap; 
my whole troop scrambled after with slipping hoofs. 
Thus far none had opposed us ; yet the enemy, too, 
were coming fast. I could see them plainly now, 
rushing up from the marshes that border the bay, 
a long line of plunging cavalry and hurrying foot, 
winding toward us in a mottled streak like an angry 
snake. Their foremost horsemen had climbed the 
southern slope and were upon us before our main 
column had passed the defile in our rear. 

Then was the bow of Golas first proved in battle. 
The leader of the advancing battalion paused on 
the hillside to form his line — out of range, as he 
thought. To him I pointed : the ever-ready weapon 
beside me lifted and leaped with one motion ; the 
Syracusan bowed on the shaft and fell among the 
stones with crashing arms, while his horse sprang 
wildly down the track. But the rest — they had 
not yet learned their lesson. They charged us 
hotly, — a mere drove without order or command, 
but my archers never could have stood the brunt. 

“Shoot!” I shouted. “Drain your quivers! 
Beat back their spears or we are spitted meat ! ” 

The hill rang with the clang of bows and the 
rattle of falling bolts. Yet the charging horse 
came close; their javelins hurtled through our ar- 


G O R G O 


249 

rows; but for Golas we could not have held them 
off. He swayed with his bow like a holm-oak puls- 
ing in the wind. He chuckled with delight. His 
deadly barbs sped humming from the cord like a 
stream of wasps when they fly to* sting. No armour 
could stay them. When we were hardest pressed, he 
shot through shield and breastplate, man and horse ; 
and no Syracusan reached us. Then, as Lamachus 
mounted the crest with his labouring hoplites, the 
onset slackened, the assaulting spears drew back, 
and, pelted still with arrows, the enemy broke in 
tumult down the hill. Lamachus, sweeping the 
field with one wide glance, rode to my side and 
smote my shoulder with his palm. 

“ Well wrought, young soldier,” he said, heart- 
ily. “ You, at least, were worth the teaching. You 
and your fifty bows have won the wedge that will 
split Syracuse.” He turned to Golas, whose shafts 
had not yet ceased to fly; they soared up with 
steep slant and seemed lost. 

“ Waste no good arrows, fellow. That bow of 
yours peals loud, but no mortal arm can strike at 
three stades.” 

Even as he spoke a Syracusan sunk prone on 
his horse’s neck, and hung there while the steed 
dashed onward. 

“ Firebolts of Apollo ! ” cried Lamachus, “ your 
stick has pinned him ! ” He swore the oath again 
in sheer amazement. “ Son of Hagnon, the fellow 
is a prodigy. Let a stout shield attend him, and 


G O R G O 


250 

a runner with sheaves of arrows. See, they are 
rallying yonder; they will try us with pikes.” 

For while we talked a dense array of Syracusan 
infantry had been gathering below as a pool fills 
from a running stream. They formed in phalanx, 
with deep files and narrow front. The trumpet 
brayed ; they advanced with much tossing of brass. 

Lamachus laughed. He had deployed his men 
on the brow of the hill, my bows in the rear with 
the slings and darts. “ Begin at sure range,” he 
said to me, “ and volley them till we come within 
spear-touch. Then, down on their flank with your 
horse.” 

He rode back to his post. They were now so 
near that I could see the rivets of their shields. 
Their pace quickened; they surged up swiftly, but 
with swaying ranks. I signalled : a sleet of mingled 
missiles drove in their faces ; their whole formation 
shook, but they ran on blindly under lifted shields. 
Then Lamachus roared to his hoplites : their paean 
swelled; their steady line swept down the slope, 
each levelled lance as rigid as a trireme’s beak. 
The wavering mass before them could not withstand 
the shock; the foremost fell; the hindmost broke 
and fled. And at that we, too, charged, galloping 
close on the flank of the fleeing mob, shooting 
them down with arrows as they ran from the spears, 
— until Lamachus, seeing much cavalry swarming 
up from the plain, called us back lest we be cut off. 
So ended that day’s battle. The rest of the army, 
with Nicias, now was on the hilltop, and the Syra- 


G O R G O 


251 

cusans slunk away to their city. We marched down 
to their very walls and defied them, but they dared 
not fight. 

The post we had seized was the crest of a long 
plateau, which sloped and widened toward the town 
at its base, the edges dropping sheer on either side, 
with here and there a defile through which a rough 
track struggled up. It lay like a Titan’s arm reach- 
ing out, palm downward, from the inland heights; 
while we, perched on the bony wrist, gazed down 
on a city spread, as it were, across the fingers, with 
a wall at the knuckles. The left hand I called it in 
my fancy; for the broad expanse of the southern 
bay filled the hollow between the extended index 
and the rocky ridge that formed the monster’s 
thumb. We were soon to writhe in the gripe of 
that thumb and finger; but when we looked sea- 
ward on that second morning the view was fair to 
the eyes, and our hearts were beating martial 
measures. 

If only I could have forgotten Gorgo! and I did, 
— there were hours when I did forget. This was 
one. 

“ What next?” I asked Lamachus, who stood 
near me. “Shall we storm their gates?” 

“ Nay,” he said, with suppressed impatience, 
“ we shall take to building fences. The rest is to 
him.” He waved his hand toward Nicias, who 
was busily inspecting the ground below us. “ He 
is minded to fight with baked mud and pointed 
stakes; I can only fight with spears. See, he is 


G O R G O 


252 

planning to take them like hares in a mesh of his 
enginery. He is dainty of blood; he would open 
their gates with a Melian famine.” 

“ It will spend the summer,” I cried. And here 
the thought of Gorgo struck through me like a 
spinning dart. She had called ; she waited ! 

“ Aye,” said he, “ all summer and a thousand 
odd talents. The spear is swifter than the spade, 
and blood is cheaper than mortar; but Syracuse 
shall pay us back.” 

And she did, but not according to our hope. In 
words like these the gods let fall their warnings, 
but who can read them in the hour of action ? They 
are not meant to save; the course of fate is not 
turned by oracles. 

I must own that Nicias knew his craft. Not in 
vain had he worked the mines at Laureion ; none 
could do more with wood and stone. First a castle 
went up on the heights to shield our rear; it hung 
like a sea-eagle’s nest on the northern cliff, and 
was piled as quickly. Then, descending toward the 
town, he planted our camp in the middle of the slope 
and fenced it in a single day. Thence he laid his 
lines : our walls shot out on either side with embrac- 
ing arms, which reached seaward so swiftly that the 
Syracusans were astounded. W.e could observe their 
tumult as one watches a chorus from the upper 
benches : they darkened the streets ; they were 
massing behind the gates. The valves opened : their 
whole force swarmed from its hive as if to dash 
in our faces; but when Lamachus moved against 


G O R G O 


253 

them with sunlit shields and the rhythmic clash of 
brass, they shrunk away and streamed back without 
a battle. Only the cavalry lingered to harass our 
convoys. Lamachus called me. 

“ This is yours ; you must give them a run. Take 
all the horse and what you will of the foot. Teach 
them to keep their hoofs off the rocks.” 

I set a spearman beside each horse, his left hand 
in the mane; I bade the archers aim low. One 
sharp charge did the work, for we caught them 
close by the cliffs, and our arrows crazed their 
mounts. Some went over the edge; the rest broke 
for the gates, while we all reined up and laughed 
to see how Golas kept them running. Their track 
was well blazoned with his trophies, each with a 
shaft between the shoulders; and after this our 
wagon-trains ran free. 

The enemy fought no more in the open field. 
Henceforth they met Nicias with tactics like his 
own, crossing our line to the south with a stout 
stockade, while we were piling stone northward. 
But no fence of logs could stop Lamachus. Choos- 
ing the hour of noon, when many were napping, he 
charged them with a rush that bore down their 
stakes and sent the defenders in headlong flight. 
We pursued so hotly that some of our men pressed 
through the gate with the fugitives — and re- 
mained within. If the gods were good to them 
their period was short. The logs we threw down, 
and Nicias carted them off for better uses. He 
turned now to the southern wall, and soon brought 


G O R G O 


254 

it to the point where the rocks pitch to the lower 
levels, rearing a tower against the face of the cliff 
to make good the junction. Thence we started 
across the marshes toward the harbour with a double 
wall of baked brick. 

But here a new obstruction rose against us. The 
Syracusans again crossed our path, running a pal- 
isade through the swamp, cutting us off from the 
bay. This they reinforced with a moat, and the 
quaking morass in front was scarcely better. The 
space behind bristled with spears ; the position 
seemed unassailable. Not even so was Lamachus 
daunted. He conferred with Nicias; he raided the 
villages, stripping the houses of planks and doors. 
With these we marched out in eager silence, dim in 
the morning mist, and flinging them down on the 
mud where the clay was stiffest, charged swiftly 
over the marsh; even horse could pass thus. The 
ditch we spanned with long ladders; the rattle 
of the iron hooks upon their fence was the enemy’s 
first warning. They met us with desperate spears, 
but the column behind pushed us on. The great 
stakes tottered in the soggy soil : they fell ; we 
rushed through; the panic-stricken guards fled be- 
fore us. The moat was a gory clot of mud and 
blood; the corpses lay in its slime like mangled 
frogs : but the post was ours. 

It was quite too soon to snout victory; that was 
yet to cost us dear — too dear. We had scarcely 
made firm our footing when all Syracuse was upon 
us; foaming horsemen, panting hoplites, darters 


G O R G O 


255 

stripped for a race with death, all were there, surg- 
ing against us with the fury of a failing hope. But 
we were of Athens, and Lamachus was still our 
leader. Our press of lances bore them back; their 
feet slipped in blood; shields swayed and sunk; 
steeds reared and screamed on the goading brass. 

“ Forward ! Plunge with the pikes ! ” 

We drove hard and our points bit deep. Their 
whole line quailed beneath the stroke: yelling with 
wounds and rage they thrust back fiercely, but their 
unison was lost ; once more they broke in flight. 
And still the victory was not yet won, nor its price 
paid. 


XXL 


The Turn of the Tide 

“ f | ^ HE horse ! Mass horse and bows ! Trumpet 
them up and follow close! ” So shouted 
Lamachus — for me the grizzled veteran’s 
last command. 

The routed foot were herding toward the town; 
already their van was tumbling through the postern ; 
but the cavalry, cut off by our onset, had made for 
the bridge over reedy Anapus, which pours its deep 
tide through the swale to the bay. Here they had 
rallied : our best spears, disordered in the swift 
pursuit, were turned. The peril was instant, and 
Lamachus spurred to the rescue with scarce twenty 
behind him, crying to me as I have said. 

My troop was dispersed in the riot of the chase : 
I formed them with all haste; but before we were 
fairly headed our rash commander, far in advance, 
was splashing up from the pools of the marsh 
on the flank of the foe. And there, as I plunged, 
bitter-hearted, through the clogging mire, I beheld 
a combat worthy of the Trojan plain. 

A great horseman, with arms that blazed in the 
rising sun like Hector’s own, rode forth against 
256 


G O R G O 


2 57 

him, shouting defiance and calling his name. Our 
general — again I see it and my heart is bursting 
— the graybeard was still too young ; not yet would 
old Lamachus stomach a challenge. I could hear 
his stern accent as he ordered back his men. Both 
sides stood fast, while the champions flashed to- 
gether with stark spears levelled. 

“Golas!” I cried. “Oh, Golas!” And then 
only did Golas shoot from a horse; and then only, 
and once again, did he miss. “ Gods ! ” I ended, 
groaning. 

The two steeds crashed and recoiled — riderless, 
for each lance was driven home through plate and 
bone; both spearmen fell, impaled on bloody ash. 

“ Upon them ! ” I thundered, in a voice like his 
that was silent. “ Kill every man ! ” 

We had reached the hard ground now and charged 
with souls that ached for vengeance, shooting as we 
galloped and from bowstrings that shrieked with 
rage. But our quarry did not await us ; they dashed 
over the bridge to safety, bearing our dead and 
their own. To these Golas made additions, even 
then. 

Again the day seemed won, but we lifted no 
paean. My spirit had grown as dull and cold as his 
whose eyes see victory, but whose thoughts are all 
with the spear-blade sunk in his vitals. I slipped 
down from my horse and leaned upon his neck ; and 
if there were tears — 

The distant murmur of reviving battle roused me ; 
it swelled from the heights we had left. I glanced 


G O R G O 


258 

up : the whole space between the city and our line 
of wall sparkled with moving arms. All the hordes 
of Syracuse were mounting for a fresh assault, — 
and who was there to meet them? Only Nicias, 
grievously sick, with a train of slaves and builders, 
— Nicias, who had lain that morning prone on his 
bed, moaning, unable as it seemed to rise. My trum- 
pet rang the alarm in jarring blasts. Again we 
floundered through the mud. 

But this man who would sit and wrinkle his brow 
while others acted, could lift his anguished body 
when others faltered and guide a battle from a bed 
of pain. This the Syracusans soon discovered. 
They had almost reached him now. They were 
passing his outworks, flinging down the undefended 
hedge of pickets. If they paused before the wall 
it was only to wait for the ladders that trailed behind 
them. 

“ They are within : they have fired the camp,” 
I exclaimed in dismay. 

But the smoke that I saw was not from within. 
It curled all along the wall-front, darting out red 
flame-blades at the slanted ladders, set already and 
already worse than worthless. The men leaped from 
the rungs like creatures caught on a grate, and still 
as the fire grew fiercer shrunk away, reluctant, 
wrathful, blistered in their brass. It was plain 
enough now. Between our outer pickets and the 
wall lay a mass of enginery, — stacked timbers, log 
piles, wagons, pitch, and cordage, with all the chips 
and splinters from the shaping axe. Amid these 


G O R G O 


259 

Nicias had cast torches; he had reared a new pal- 
isade of flame, — a beacon, too, for our scattered 
troops, whose clamour grew loud in my rear as 
they gathered and ran. 

We rode fast and the rising cliffs soon hid both 
fire and foe. When we gained the top the flames 
had fallen, but a rampart of embers glowed against 
the wall, and the stormers still held aloof in a wide 
crescent. Then, while we deployed for a dash on 
their flank, a great shout went up : they were turn- 
ing ; all eyes sought the bay. I also turned : the 
great harbour was flecked with ships, and through 
its narrow throat yet more were pouring in. Our 
whole fleet had joined us; sea and land were ours. 
The city, too, — it was doomed. What city ? Even 
then, on the changeless roll of fate, the gods had 
written it, — Athens. But we said, Syracuse ; and 
so said all men. 

The very Syracusans had no better thought. 
They fled behind their gates and sallied forth no 
more. They watched us idly as we carried our 
double wall across the marsh, from the cliff to the 
bay. Not a spear was lifted when we raised a 
fortress close by the harbour’s mouth, to rivet their 
fetter. Their only talk was of terms of surrender. 
Nothing could save the city now. 

Thus it was noised through Greece; and of men, 
none doubted. The end was so near that we left 
the stones of the northern wall unpiled as they 
lay in heaps on the slope to the sea; why build 
to-day and pull down to-morrow? Alas, that it 


26 o G O R G O 

seemed so sure! In that hour the wheel of fate 
was turning. 

For while those stones lay loose and the mortar 
was not yet mixed to bind them, four ships were 
slowly beating toward us from the shores of Greece. 
Only four ships. 

“ Pirates,” said Nicias, briefly, when the word 
was brought. “ Mere pirates, to harry Italian vil- 
lages. My task is here.” 

Only four ships; but on one was a Spartan. 
Gylippus he was called. A small man, mean of 
aspect — but a Spartan. A miserly fellow, in a 
tunic short and patched and not too clean — but a 
leader of men. Well, old Boreas, ever friendly to 
his kindred in Athens, wrought his best to amend 
the neglect of Nicias. He smote hard on their 
sails and drove them over stormy courses; but 
at last they put in at Tarentum. Great was the 
interest of the Spartan when he heard of those stone 
heaps down by the sea. 

“ I hear that Gylippus has given us the slip and 
gone inland,” said Nicias; for at last he had sent 
an intercepting squadron — too late. 

“ They say he is raising troops for Syracuse,” 
I answered, — vexed, for this might mean delay. 

“ Yes, and Syracuse knows it,” said Nicias. He 
was paler than usual, and a cold sweat gleamed on 
his brow as the pain clutched his vitals. “ A boat 
stole through last night with the news. But for 
that, the gates would have opened for us to-day. 
Yesterday all was arranged; now they whet their 


G O R G O 261 

spears. I have ever feared the gods were against 
us in this,” he concluded. 

“ Finish the wall,” I cried hotly. “ With our 
circle locked I would defy the very gods.” 

His look was severe. “ Such words invite their 
anger; such words, rash youth, have brought ruin 
to cities.” 

“ Then let them bring ruin to Syracuse. My 
words on my head! Build the wall.” 

“ Lamachus, too, would provoke them by hasty 
speech,” he went on, mournfully. “ And that Alci- 
biades ! But I — I have never neglected the smallest 
point of duty.” He bowed his head. “ They are 
unforgiving. They rack me with agonies; they 
beset me with troubles for the fault of others. Yet 
the wall ” — he groaned — “ shall be built. There 
is time enough.” 

There was time. But the workmen fled and a 
remnant of stones still lay scattered when the Spar- 
tan paraded by with his motley three thousand, 
culled from all over Sicily. They passed us in battle 
array, marshalled under the forms of Lycurgus; 
they had been well drilled on the march. The 
whole force of the city trained out to meet them 
with pipes and paeans, while Nicias writhed on 
his bed. Not a blow was struck. 

Then a trumpet came forth. “ The clemency 
tendered by Sparta to the men of Athens!” He 
proclaimed it loudly, that all might hear. “ Five 
days Gylippus grants them to leave Sicily with 


262 


G O R G O 


ships and arms. But his mercy extends no further ; 
from the fifth day it is war to> the death.” 

To this insolence we made no answer, — not even 
a scoff. Among ourselves, perhaps, we sneered, but 
with bated breath. Sparta ! the name was daunting, 
even to us. And thenceforth all went awry ; it seems 
beyond belief that things could go so ill. But the 
moment when Athens might have seized the empire 
of the world had passed unused, and our fortunes 
ever slanted downward. Of this it seemed the vis- 
ible symbol when we slipped from our point of 
vantage on the hill to camp in the foggy marsh 
below. Yet that soon came. 

For Gylippus was certainly a man of conduct; 
his hand reached out at once to grasp the key of 
the siege. First, holding our forces in play by a 
show of spears before the wall, he himself with 
his bravest climbed against our castle on the heights. 
The surprise was perfect; not a man of the garri- 
son was spared. Then, crossing our uncompleted 
wall with a traverse to the northern cliff, he blocked 
it forever, using the very stones that should have 
stopped him. Some sharp fighting there was, 
wherein I bore my part and took my first wound; 
but the rabble of islanders fought with Spartan 
tactics now, and Spartan discipline — for Gylippus 
would have no other — and they held us off with 
steady shields. 

“ The siege is ended.” So I cried in my heart, 
— half-glad. So Nicias also thought, though far 
from gladness ; for then it was that he led us quite 


G O R G O 


263 

off the heights, down to our lines by the bay. We 
were both deceived : the siege was not ended, but 
reversed. 

The foul reek of the swamp was about us; even 
water was hard to get. To find fuel and forage 
was yet harder; the Syracusan horse infested all 
the plain. Every day they swooped at us, — for 
venture out we must ; and here I got a new wound, 
which healed but slowly. Like our commander we 
were sick in soul and body. Our allies were de- 
serting; the enemy even vexed our corn-ships on 
the sea. So the winter closed in upon us. 

Nicias had called me to his tent. A dark rain 
was pouring without; the rugs which his slaves 
had spread were damp. He had been writing a 
letter, and sat on the edge of his pallet with the 
unsealed tablets at his knee. 

“ This must go to Athens,” he said, heavily. “ I 
have need of a trusty messenger.” 

My heart bounded. He eyed me with a searching 
look. “ You are young,” he continued, “ young, 
and I fear profane — like the rest. But I know 
that Lamachus trusted you.” His eyes had grown 
moist. “ That is something. Lamachus, though 
he judged ill of risks, was no mean judge of men.” 

“ He taught me all I know of fighting. I loved 
him.” 

“ He is with Persephone; I trust he was a true 
initiate and faithful to his vows. But the question 
is not of Lamachus. By his death I am left sick 
and alone. My burden is too great for me.” His 


264 G O R G O 

look was woeful. “ I must be recalled, son of 
Hagnon.” 

“ Let all be recalled,” I cried. “ Why fight longer 
against the Spartans and the gods ? ” 

“ That is the tenor of it. But the city will not 
listen; you know the people. I need not a mes- 
senger, but an advocate.” 

“ I will plead — as we plead before them for our 
lives.” 

“ It is no less : you will plead for many lives ; 
you will plead for Athens. But you know how to 
talk to them. You have a tongue; your words hit 
straight. I have heard, you see, of your bout with 
Pisander.” He smiled wanly. “ But my envoy 
must return. He must swear it, — by the dark gods 
and the three avengers he must swear.” 

I startled at that; but there was no retreat. He 
led me to a little shrine beside his bed and I swore 
as he bade me. He read me the letter, sealed it, 
and laid the tablets in my hands. 

“Now go: your trireme is manned and on the 
water. You will meet rough weather, but one 
Meletus will be your pilot, — a sure rudder.” He 
sunk back faint, for his spasm had come and the 
pain was cruel. 

“ Nicias,” I exclaimed, “ sail with me. Let all 
sail with me, and absolve my oath.” 

His smile was ghastly. “ Have you, then, a fair 
mistress in Athens? But the people would never 
endure it. Go : tell them of this.” 

His physician rushed in with the slaves; and I 
sailed alone. 


XXII. 


The Riddle Solved 

W ELL, lad,” said Meletus, as we swung on 
the sea with full banks beating against 
a light head-wind, “ have you had enough 
of them ? ” 

“ What ? ” I answered, bewildered ; for I was 
deep in thought. 

“ Those brute nags. Those dancing caravels that 
make a tempest with their own four legs and pitch 
in a dead calm. They make me seasick — those 
ground-hoppers . ’ ’ 

“ What do you know about them ? ” I asked, with 
some interest. 

“ I know all about them. I’ve been on deck. 
Those fellows at Catana ran me up the ladder, — 
the god’s fire-fork split them ! ” 

“ You!” 

“ Yes, me! By all the little gods that perch be- 
hind our rudders, me! Am I a lying walker on 
mud to mis-steer with the tongue? Oh, be sure, 
I had a fine freight of vintage in the hold, stowed 
away good and dry. They’d got me started up 
that cursed JE tna to see where the fire came from.” 
His eyes sought mine with a furtive squint. 

265 


266 


G O R G O 


“ You climbed to the chimney of Typhon! ” 
“Not so far, lad. Not above half a league — 
or a league and a half — I know not. ’Twas prow 
up all the way, and choppy ; the wind trailed out, too, 
and I tired of such hard pulling. Then they laid 
alongside with this nag, — stilted up, mind you, 
like a hulk in the yards; but they lent me a hoist 
and I swung aboard by the fore cables. Then all 
at once she was plunging on a stiff sea.” 

“ You mean that they got you drunk and led you 
up a precipice and put you on a Sicilian horse? ” 

“ Well, doubtless I was as drunk as needful, 
as you might know. But I blame them not for that. 
’Twas much as you say, I surmise; I think I told 
them I could steer such a cockle down Phlegethon. 
But the tackle was not to> my mind ; the rigging was 
all clumped about the beak, and when I reached 
back for the rudder the sweeps wouldn’t bite. Then 
I reached both ways; ’twas the stern-post I had 
hold of, I fancy.” Again he leered, as I laughed. 

“ Anyhow, we ran down the roughest course 
I ever pointed. I was seasick, I tell you — right 
sick; the lift of the swell would have sickened 
Poseidon. A tangle of brailing lines whipped at 
my face in the gale; ’twas an ill-trimmed craft. 
I think I had what they call spurs at the cat-heads, 
and I sent them aft for anchors.” 

“ And still you are alive,” I choked. 

“ I was none so sure of that, my lad, when I 
flipped over the bulwarks and splashed in the dust. 
I had lost my bearings; I conceived I had gotten 


G O R G O 


267 

a fall to the deck. ’Twas no soft brine I struck.” 
He paused. “ The Lord of Olympus blast those 
fellows! They said I was stretched for swimming 
when they hauled me in. But a flagon mends all.” 

I knew well what he wanted. The sea was low, 
and we made a sailor’s night of it. 

But I could not drown my restlessness in wine. 
Something lay in my soul, just beneath the groping 
fingers of my thoughts. In my sleep I am sure it 
rose clearly; but when I awoke I had lost it. Yet 
something lingered. Some faint impression deeper 
than the eyeball; a filmy flush as of remembered 
roses, not seen but felt, and with it such a sense 
of sweetness, beyond all roses ! It must be — noth- 
ing else was like that. Gorgo! my soul had felt 
her kiss. Then, as the rose-light faded — yet the 
sweetness was still around me — on a dusky back- 
ground, traced with curves and angles, I read — 

I started up, cleared my eyes and looked about. 
The ship shook with the even pulse of the oars; 
the shadow of the pennant quivered on the deck : 
it was almost noon. The sail, now set, was clouted 
with a patch ; the swinging ladder showed a broken 
step; the very planking seemed familiar. I noted 
the knot beside which I had lain as I pored upon 
Gorgo’ s letter. Her letter! It still lay in the tim- 
bered gloom at the roots of the ram. I soon had it 
forth. 

But grievous was my disappointment. I could 
scarcely force open the tablet. The hot Sicilian 
sun had made the place an oven, and the wax had 


268 


G O R G O 


run; not a dint was left of all that Gorgo’s hand 
had printed. “ Yet ” — after a sigh — “ it matters 
little,” I thought. “ I have only to close my eyes 
to see it as it was, — every stroke of the stylus.” 
Then, suddenly, where the wax had left the wood 
I perceived faint markings. 

“ Fool ! ” I cried in my heart. “ Oh, thick- 
skulled Boeotian! Was this the keen Athenian wit 
to which she trusted ? ” For the words that were 
melted from the diptych flashed up within me in 
characters that flamed with light. A child could 
read their meaning : — 

Perhaps — if you are he — you will think there 
is something beneath all this — these words are so 
shallow. Perhaps , if they seem too cold, you can 
find a way to warm them. 

The sun-god had solved my riddle; I had found 
the way — at last. With a heated strigil I scraped 
the clotted wax from the cypress; and a maze of 
letters lay before me, pricked deep in its substance 
in crowded lines, close-packed. I read them slowly : 
my heart was throbbing with the flutter of a sprung 
bowstring : — 

Yes, it is I, Gorgo — she that once — so strange 
a thing for her to do — the same Gorgo that kissed 
you, boy, on the lips. But you know already, and 
you do remember — else you would never have 
found me here, my very self, under the wax. And 
— I love you, Athenian boy — O boy, more than 
ever — for that comes first and is most of all. And 


G O R G O 


269 

I keep my promise , and will always. But whether 
I can always keep it and keep this Gorgo too I do 
not know. Yet I would not call had I not sworn. 
For if I call you will come , and then, I think, we 
will soon both be dead. Myself, I would not care so 
much then. We would just go together, wherever it 
is — and I would much rather be there with you 
than anywhere with Lysander. But I will maybe 
have to go there alone — unless you can find another 
way. O boy — if you really do love that Gorgo 
and know of any way, come now and save me. Yet 
if you don’t see a way, don’t come. Don’t come to 
die. For I will wait yonder just as I promised here 
— and after a long time you will come and find me, 
even in that darkness. 

But know that I that write am writing truly and 
am truly Gorgo — with vohom such words were 
spoken — since for this she learned writing, and not 
for the accounts, as she told some one. Yet she does 
keep the accounts, for he is old and cannot see 
clearly, and will trust no other. And if you will 
come in spite of all, this is the beginning: 

At the place they call Malea, where the waves 
beat so loud — and some say that he who goes there 
must bid farewell to home and friends, but I hope it 
is not so — at that place is a shelf of the rock, high 
over the sea. And there this Gorgo has stood some- 
times, watching for a ship that might come — but 
she cannot go often , for it is far and so hard to 
make excuses. On that shelf is a hut where a helot 
sleeps, and the wife of the helot is a servant to 


G O R G O 


270 

Gorgo. He is true and has been told, and if he be 
there he will come down quickly when you wave 
your arms with fingers clasped about the wrist — 
or if any one speaks to him of pearls he will know 
surely. But if that man is not there, it is thus: 

The face of the cliff you cannot climb, but for 
one who creeps forward a little, close under the 
shadow of the rock if it be morning, for him there 
is presently a path — and this you must climb with 
bare feet, lest you slip. Do not hasten because you 
think that Gorgo may be there, lest you slip. And 
do not linger in the hut, lest another come, for he 
too has been in that place — Ly sander. But look 
about quickly and by the edge you will see a great 
stone, that looks as if it might fall, yet a strong 
man cannot move it. From that stone a rope hangs 
behind bushes — and by the rope one may reach a 
path, and by the path a little cave under the rock 
— which Lysander does not know, but only the 
helot and Gorgo. There wcdt — or if you cannot 
wait leave a writing, and Gorgo will surely see those 
words. 

But do not come unless you see another way 
than to fight with Lysander. He is so terrible, that 
Lysander, when he may not have his wish, and Rhy- 
zon has told him — but not what Rhyzon did not 
know. For Gorgo has never told anything, nor 
forgotten — not one least word, Athenian boy. 

I arose with trembling knees and set teeth. I 
seemed again to feel that kiss upon my lips, and 


G O R G O 


271 

with it the bite of Spartan spears. But my mind 
was made up. It might be too late, it might cost 
me all the blood that Syracuse had spared, but I 
never would pass that ominous Malean headland 
without a trial. Oath or not, I would make the trial; 
not to Nicias only nor Nicias first had I sworn. I 
would keep both oaths if I might, — but death 
absolves. 

I strode aft. “ Meletus,” I said, without preface, 
“ you must make room in the hold for two horses.” 

“ Horses ! ” he roared, “ by god’s trident I had 
thought the lad was mending, and he is seized with 
a fit of horses in mid-sea. But take wine, lad : it will 
pass.” 

“ Be still. You must find me space for two horses 
under deck.” 

“ I must find him space for two horses ! It shall 
be hellebore, not wine. Horses! and naught but 
good water down the offing. But I myself have 
seen those beasts after much wine. The lad is not 
yet seasoned.” 

“ For two horses,” I repeated, “ to be taken on 
at Corcyra. Cease your bellowing and mind the 
rudder.” 

“ The lad mends a little. He no longer thinks 
to have his horses from the stables of Poseidon. 
I am loath to pour hellebore down his throat, and 
a flagon may serve. But two — he said two — yea, 
two horses! Can it run in the poor lad’s fancy 
that I, Meletus, as having lately learned to ride — ” 

“ Never think it,” I cried. “ My companion will 


272 


G O R G O 


be no mellow old pilot, whooping about Phlegethon, 
crossing his legs for a better hold on the ground 
and viewing his steed as a thing on a line of stilts 
in the dazzle of his wine.” 

“ How else would I mount the rigging of a horse? 
and as for the number of props, they do vary with 
time and circumstance. Yet why do I reason with 
the lad? He has turned red from pale: it is but 
the wine; his long mispractice gives his conceit this 
aspect. Lad, there is no horse near you. Doubtless 
he, too, thinks to nag it up a mountain side and see 
Typhon blow fire from his nostrils.” 

“ Yes,” I said, “ I shall ride straight up a moun- 
tain and hope to see there the reddest fire that ever 
glowed ; but I ride not with anchored spurs nor 
gripping the tail.” And I turned on my heel. 

“ I mind not,” he muttered, “ but thus it is to 
ride horses. The god of the centaurs nags him still 
for past follies.” 

Despite the dismay of Meletus we put in at Cor- 
cyra.. Good chargers were scarce, but gold will buy 
bread from famine, and I presently had on a noble 
pair, — deep-chested, wide in the hoof, such as gal- 
lop the sands about Cyrene and will run all day 
without rest or drink. They would both come at 
call and turn at a touch ; their eyes were like a 
girl’s. I made love to them even on shipboard, 
and soon they would lay their soft muzzles caress- 
ingly on my shoulder. 

And now at last, after much ill weather, the Ma- 
lean cape rose in view. It was just at sunset, but 


G O R G O 


273 


I could easily descry the goatherd’s hut ; no human 
figure was visible. That night, not without hazard, 
we landed the horses; and while Golas held them 
just beyond the surf, — 

“ Meletus,” I said, “ stand out with safe seaway 
until noon to-morrow. Watch the rock, and if 
you see my signal put in quickly with a tender and 
the best oars. Nay, old sea-hound, it will be no 
matter of horses; rare chargers they are, those 
two — but if fortune serves so well I will even leave 
them on the Spartan plain as a ransom for her I 
bear away.” 

I heard him slap his thigh. “ By the fifty loves 
of Father Jove, this is better. A lass — T might 
have known ; but my wits made some shift of ballast 
on yon ^Etna. I will stand by, and at signal take 
you off though it were the black coast of Acheron. 
But how then, lad, if you signal not? The gods 
defend you, Theramenes — is it in your thought to 
run before a Spartan tempest on such craft as the 
mares ? ” 

“If by midday you see no signal, make on for 
Athens with quick pipes and full banks. There 
deliver the letter that lies under my pallet. And 
mix no wine with public business.” 

“ Never sheer for that : I am no way minded to 
mix my wine with a grinding of the hemlock. But 
you, lad? In this affair of a lass, if by taking 
passage with you — ” 

“ You must speed the letter. As for myself, I 
have sworn. It shall be as it may.” 


G O R G O 


274 

“ Swear not too deeply, lad, and choose well your 
oaths. With a lass a sweet, soft, harmless oath 
serves every need. I myself, in these matters of 
lasses, swear mainly by the gods of Egypt, within 
whose grasp I seldom come. In truth, I now sail 
wide of that coast. Or swear by the goose of the 
prow, lad — it is a gentle, wooden thing ; or, if 
that suits not, by the fan of Aphrodite, which blows 
up no gales to founder ships.” 

“ Make no lurch on the letter,” I called after him. 
And so we parted. 

With Golas, who could see in the night like a 
prowling fox, I led back from the shore a little 
and stabled the horses under a thicket. Then, as 
the mist began to whiten, I groped out the path 
and climbed upward alone. It was well that I 
had heeded Gorgo’s caution, for the steep track was 
glazed with dew; soon I hung in a cloud, all gray 
above me and beneath. Lizard-like, flattened against 
the rock, I crawled on until the fog rolled far below ; 
and here the path turned and led seaward, edging 
the cliffs and almost halting my heart with its nar- 
rowings. Yet the end of this goatish scramble 
was indeed the shelf of rock. The hut was empty; 
I swung down by the perilous rope, found footing 
and presently the cave. 


XXIII. 


In the Grotto of Gorgo 

T HE cavern, too, was empty. It was no deep 
vault — scarcely more than a balcony beneath 
an overhang of rock, fronted and shielded 
from eyes below by a lift of wall like a balustrade, 
in part natural and partly piled of rough stone. In 
the deepest recess lay a pile of fleeces, and behind 
them several jars of wine; also a number of La- 
conian cheeses in willow crates, well gnawed by 
mice, and barley cakes nibbled about the edges. Of 
Gorgo I saw no trace. I made, however, a hearty 
meal — for my stomach pined — then turned to the 
front. 

The ship of Meletus lay heaving just under me 
— so it seemed ; yet doubtless the distance was 
many stades. Her oars were out, but they merely 
swung with a light plash backward to hold away 
from the rocks. In an instant all was commotion ; 
the pipes blew shrilly and the prow leaped forward. 
I almost cried out : it still lacked much of noon. 
Then, glancing westward, I saw three Spartan gal- 
leys bearing down with all the impetus of bending 
spruce. Meletus fled before them, drawing far out 
275 


G O R G O 


276 

from land. I laughed in my heart, for the spaces 
widened, — then sighed — the horses were now my 
only hope. I could not in fairness blame Meletus 
— but while my thoughts excused him his galley 
wheeled in a foaming circle; a swift swoop sheared 
from the foremost Spartan half her oars; a sharp 
turn cleft the second amidship. The third, rearing 
on the sudden back-thrust of her oars, put about 
and made good flight; though I have learned since 
that she was taken off Cythera. But Meletus did 
not pursue; while one of his victims sunk with all 
on board and another drifted toward the rocks with 
broken pinions, he swung back to his post. He 
glanced up : I noted that now the deck-shadows lay 
straight toward me. Three times he gazed; I 
fancied that he even saw me, but he shook his 
head and turned. Yet again he faced the rock, and 
his hoarse voice floated up faintly. 

“ I go, lad, — but this blows in the teeth of my 
liking. I know not if I bawl to aught but ears of 
stone ; but the gods defend thee, lad, from man and 
beast.” 

The oars dipped, the ship glided from before me ; 
it was soon far down the eastern water-slope. I 
drew back rather drearily, cast myself on the fleeces 
to meditate, and slept. 

I dreamed of the Syrian. Again I was a child : 
his claw was on my throat, his hissing whisper in 
my ear. I awoke with a scream, — which swelled 
in my breast and ebbed away without sound. A 
broad hand was over my mouth ; a swart face looked 


G O R G O 


2 77 


into mine; behind, all was dark, but a lamp-horn, 
set on the ground, shone up faintly. “ Best not 
make noise,” said the lips. 

“ Pardocas ! ” I gurgled through his fingers : they 
relaxed. 

“ What that ? Best not make loud oath. Spartans 
down yonder — their ship break up on rocks. But 
give word, or perhaps I call them.” 

The face was not black, though dusky with tan 
and shadow. The look was kindly. 

“ Botas ! ” I whispered. 

“ Yes, Botas. I think you know word. Best 
give word.” 

I was sitting up now. “ Is it not pearls, Botas ? I 
am come to* take them, Botas, — all my pearls. Yet 
some I have already; and of others I have lately 
seen the print — on the wax, Botas.” 

His rugged visage melted into something child- 
like. He clasped my knees. 

“ She will be glad. It has been much time. I am 
her helot — lam Botas, that bore the wax. She will 
be glad. My wife, too, is hers, in Sparta — not 
like me — more beautiful, like her.” 

I felt the wrinkle of a frown but lost it in a 
smile. 

“ Your helot too I will be. She said it — Botas, 
helot of Hagno’s son of Athens, where they beat not. 
I will tend your goats, Lysander’s helot I will not 
be. She will be glad : it was near time. But she 
said, ‘ He will come, Botas — he that speak of 
pearls — Hagno’s son. He with eyes like mine/ 


G O R G O 


278 

she said — so it is, master — ‘ for we both/ she 
said, ‘ of Ion. Or perhaps he lift arm, thus. Watch, 
Botas/ she said, ‘ and serve him/ But Lysander she 
hate. It was time/’ 

“ Lead me,” I cried, “ to Sparta — to Gorgo. 
Lead me the nearest way.” 

“ No, no ! she said not lead to Sparta, but Botas 
bring word quickly — and to keep very far from 
Lysander. I am her helot : I obey her.” 

I thought a moment. “ Can you ride,” I asked, 
“ and lead a horse? ” 

“ I ride my donkey,” he answered, “ till she die. 
Yes, I can lead. But you stay in cave.” 

“ I too obey her. I will furnish you with better 
than a donkey, yet as kind. Take the lamp and 
guide me down the path.” 

Never before, I think, nor ever in all the ages 
since, was helot goatherd so mounted. I grieved, 
at first, for the horses — they too have their pride 
of birth — but he used them humbly. 

“ I been groom once,” he said. 

Yet even Golas gave them up to him rather grudg- 
ingly. Indeed, Golas seemed suspicious of the whole 
affair — almost sullen. He had an old stone-headed 
arrow, which he always carried in his quiver but 
never shot; this he drew out, and muttered over it. 

“ Botas,” I said, “ ride fast. Bring her quickly, 
and you shall be no more a helot; return without 
her, and you shall be a helot no more.” 

“ Best wait in cave,” he called back. 

I turned toward Golas. He had fitted his arrow 


G O R G O 


279 

on the string. “ Put it away,” I cried sharply, — 
“ what do you mean ? ” And it rattled back into the 
quiver. 

I led him up the hill to the hut, and there we 
rested, for I dared not venture the rope without 
light; already I had stumbled twice in the dark- 
ness, and but for Golas would have fallen. Not until 
almost daybreak, though the mist still veiled the 
valley, did we defy the precipice and creep to the 
cavern; where I watched all day and deep into the 
night. Then — 

I sprang up. A red sun-shaft was streaming 
across the balcony ; and in its rosy radiance, yet with 
a glow far brighter — 

“ Athenian boy ” — it was like the uncertain 
warble of a brook. “ Oh ! this is not — yes, you are, 
that same boy, but — oh, what can I call you now ? ” 

She had shrunk a little, but I bound her in my 
arms and held her fast. For a moment she fluttered 
like a bird when a sudden hand is laid upon it ; she 
glanced swiftly into my eyes ; with a long, soft sigh 
she hid her face on my shoulder. And a wee voice 
close beneath my ear, — “ You frightened me, boy,” 
it said. “ But you have come, and I am the gladdest 
maid in this Hellas. For at least, if it is only for 
a little while, we shall live and die both together 
now.” Our hearts were beating close, as once before. 
I could not yet utter one word. And right here — 
it was a grim interruption. 

Golas, too, had leaped up. He stood gazing; he 
saw that I loved her; the wild beast in his soul 


28 o 


G O R G O 


crouched and roared. But he paused ; still he gazed, 

— for her beauty was of that sort which quenches 
the rage of lions. He hung in doubt whether to 
slay or to fall at her feet. He snatched from his 
quiver that old stone-pointed arrow; he strained it 
to the head, his fingers shaking on the string. 

She had started from me as water flows from the 
grasp ; she stood out before him in the crimson glory 
of the sunrise, blushing with love and morning light. 
“ Then kill me, fellow,” she panted, in breathless 
tones, that only quaked with joy, “ kill me, if so 
the gods have willed it — now.” 

The string slipped — but while the murmuring 
flint rushed with unsteady flight against the clouds, 
Golas, prone on the rock, lifted her buskined foot 
in both his hands, and set it on his bow and wor- 
shipped her. 

“ Helot, too — Gola,” he whined. My knife was 
at his neck; she plucked me back. “ You shall not 
harm him, Hagnon’s son. See, he is mine. You 
have lost — ” 

“ A slave — a helot to your dowry, Gorgo. A 
beast — a forfeit to my dagger. I have lost more 

— all that was mine. But I have gained — ” and 
I finished with sweet revenge upon her lips. “ Be- 
loved ” — and I repeated it, like one insisting — 
“ Beloved, I have gained a city. I no longer serve 
the many, as at Athens, but am become a tyrant, 
more jealous than Hippias. Gorgo my city is called 

— the fairest in Hellas, well peopled with two souls, 
mine and thine. Its walls are of the Parian marble, 


G O R G O 


28 1 


Gorgo; and its battlements shall be crowned with 
gold and its citadel looped with pearls — it shall 
be my Ecbatana. There will I reign ever, in wealth 
that shall shame the Persian ; and this have I wrested 
from Sparta.” 

“ Not yet,” she sighed. But again I used my 
tyranny upon her lips. 

“ Boy ! boy ! ” she murmured. “ But, indeed, it 
was this maid that first begun it. And who knows if 
to-morrow — ” but the rest was left unspoken. 
“ Is this truly that Golas,” she cried, “ of whom 
such rumour has been in Sparta? For they say he 
can shoot the stars off the sky! Yet he missed, and 
his bow was beneath this foot ! I felt it purr under 
my foot — the great bow that was going to kill 
me!” 

“If ever again he lifts his bow against the stars 
of heaven no sudden helotry will save him. But 
when you stood before him, Gorgo, like Athena 
sprung down from Olympus, he could not slay an 
immortal goddess.” 

“ Oh, boy ! it is sweet to say, but such words 
could never have saved me. That was a terrible 
arrow, so sharp and jagged, and when it screamed 
at me the sound was like no other I ever heard. It 
would have gone through that shield of Heracles, 
I think. But am I indeed still like her — to you, 
Hagnon’s son? ” 

“No, Gorgo; the goddess has meanwhile aged. 
She was new that day.” 


282 


G O R G O 


“Don’t!” She lifted her sweet, shocked face 
in the sunlight. “ Dear goddess,” she prayed, “ do 
not be angry. And hear me, beautiful goddess. 
Grant me that I may still be like you, just a little, 
in the eyes of Hagnon’s son, because he loves me; 
for I am only a mortal, and the time is so short.” 

“ Best go now to horses,” said Botas. 

The first to reach the shelf was Gorgo. I followed 
and was half-way up the rope, but dropped back 
at the sound of Golas tuning his weapon. The arrow 
was already sped. 

“ Man down yonder going to shoot,” explained 
Botas. “ He not shoot now.” 

I peered out through the bush. A little party of 
Spartans were hurrying along the beach, bearing an 
idle burden. 

“ Slave, you shot without signal,” I cried. 

“ Shoot for Gorka — Gola helot,” he stuttered, 
with unwonted loquacity, his eyes turned upward. 

“ Come! ” she called. 

We made for the plain with all the hazards of 
haste. We reached the horses : a score of Spartans 
were running toward us, but not eagerly; only one 
was mounted. 

“ Botas,” I said, and filled his palm with gold, 
“ take this ; buy freedom or what you will. Escape 
to Athens when you may.” Then to Golas : “ Hold 
them off till they scatter too widely; strike the horse 
if he comes within shot. That done, follow trail.” 

“ You ride well ? ” I asked, as I lifted Gorgo. 


G O R G O 


283 

“ Not well, but as I must,” she answered. “ And, 
indeed,” as we bounded forth from the thicket, “ in 
this hour I would even fly, if you set me on wings. 
For he that is on the horse is that Lysander.” 


XXIV. 


A Ride up Phounias 

A FTER we had galloped for a space I looked 
back. The Spartans, less numerous now, were 
holding far aloof ; the horseman was making 
a wide circuit. 

“ Gorgo,” I asked, leaning toward her as our 
horses ran neck and neck, “ do you know the way 
that leads by Cynuria to Argos ? ” 

“ By the place of the slain? Only to the foot- 
hills, ’’ she gasped, tossed by the swift stride of her 
steed. “ Must we pass by the field of the dead ? 
That is an awful spot; the shades, they say, come 
out each night, and fight in armour that shines in 
the moonlight but makes no sound. And the way 
that leads up from the plain is to and fro on the 
edge of a dreadful torrent. That I have seen, — 
white-plumed and black-hearted ; it will be so now. 
Its very name is murder.” 

“ Phounias,” I cried. “ Twice have I been by that 
road; and the good gods be thanked for it.” 

We had not abated our speed, but thundered 
through the little villages, while the helots fled from 
before our plunging hoofs. She was riding more 
easily now. 


284 


G O R G O 


285 

“ It is quite the very next thing to flying,” she 
panted. “ I did not know there were such horses. 
Lysander will have no such horse as these. You are 
wonderful at finding ways, Hagnon’s son. And I 
think you are braver than any Spartan,” she added. 
“ I too will be brave when we come to that place.” 
Then, after a little, as we raced across the crackling 
fields of stubble, — “ What name shall I call you, 
Athenian boy, that are grown so big and wise? 
What name shall I call my — oh, I cannot say it ! 
You are grown a man — as masterful as Lysander 

— and you ride much better. I would not dare now 
to be the first to kiss — and how did I ever ? I am 
scared to look at you, boy, this day. But tell me 
whose — no, I cannot ! ” 

I reached for a flickering kiss. “ I can say it, 
Gorgo, — his plighted bride, and soon his wedded 
wife! And the name — what other than just as 
before? But they call me Theramenes; and that 
it is truly time for you to' know.” 

“ Theramenes ! Indeed, it was like some great 
wild beast that you seized me, jumping out of the 
cave. But I never shall call you that ; it trickles too 
lightly over the tongue. I shall call you Theramnas, 

— and the sound of that is sweeter, like a kiss. So, 
Theramnas ! ” 

Our pace had fallen to a soft lope; we almost 
stopped as we leaned for the kiss. Then, roused by 
a pat on the shoulder, our steeds leaped onward. 
Soon the roar of Phounias was in our ears. 

Well that it was so near ! The whole country-side 


286 


G O R G O 


was now astir : shields lifted in the sunlight, flashed 
signals from post to post ; a beacon waved its smoky- 
banner from the hills. Already I saw a troop of 
light-armed runners hastening to cross our track. 

“ Cling! ” I cried, and smote the horse of Gorgo 
sharply on the flank, touching my own with the 
spur; they both broke away like the wind. The 
runners paused ; their arms swayed toward us : loud 
was the murmur of thong-darts as we passed, but 
the distance was too great. We clambered the slope ; 
we dashed up the defile, beside the foaming waters. 

The track was but the selvage of the stream, 
lapped by its surge. It narrowed ; the wall of rock 
rose sheer from black eddies; but our chargers 
rushed through without pause, and again found 
margin for their steady hoofs. This too fell away 
before the encroaching cliffs ; five times we struggled 
through from bank to bank. Then the rocks spread 
back; the current brawled wide and thin on the 
upper levels : the peril was past. 

Gorgo was white as the foam. “ I shall never 
again be quite the same after that,” she whispered. 
But we still fled on through a labyrinth of glens 
and glades, though the sides of our horses were 
heaving and I softened the pace. But this would 
not do : their straining tendons could not endure 
forever — nor could Gorgo, who drooped as she 
rode, wan as the lichened oaks. 

I drew rein at the door of a herdsman’s hut and 
burst the hinges. The place was deserted, but well 
stored with food; we ate and drank in its gloom, 


G O R G O 287 

then fed our quivering steeds with barley cakes and 
gave them water mingled with wine. 

“ I just love them,” said Gorgo, again growing 
buoyant. “ None in Sparta will ever believe it, that 
any creature could pass up Phounias when the water 
cries; and while they are watching to take us out 
below we may yet escape. I can now almost think 
we shall escape, Theramnas.” 

1 held her hand tightly. “ You must now give 
back my pearls,” she said, suddenly. “ You will 
need them no more, for you will have the very Gorgo 
that wore them.” 

“ Yes,” I answered, vaguely. 

“For don’t you remember? I only gave you 
those to keep for me — till now. See, boy ! ” and 
she drew from under her mantle a small embroid- 
ered bag. “ I have brought them with me — all the 
rest. Those only I took away from Sparta — the 
jewels that were my mother’s, in Ionia.” 

I thought with a pang of the dusty casket left in 
my chamber. But what did it matter, when Gorgo 
herself — 

“ Lycurgus did not approve of them,” she went 
on, gaily, “ and I think it was like an old man with 
just one eye not to. Least of all did he like the kind 
a certain maid’s ears are pricked with dimples for 
the wearing of — and that thing the Ionian women 
did for this Gorgo-, not waiting to be asked. But 
I think it would never have been her wish to deny 
them. I do not agree with Lycurgus, but like that 
kind the best of any ; and what else the little round 


288 


G O R G O 


lobes are for I cannot see. When we come to 
Athens,” quoth she, “ I will wear all my jewels all 
day, and all the days, may I not? Or do you too 
have Ephors and peevish elders, that mutter of 
foreign women and outlandish customs, and send 
rude messages ? ” 

I laughed. “ The Eleven have never yet ground 
hemlock because of pearls,” I assured her. 

“ Then give me mine,” she persisted, “ to put 
with the rest.” 

“ Let me keep them,” I faltered, “ until we are 
sitting side by side, like this, in the house of Hag- 
non.” 

“ Yes, Theramnas,” she said, very softly, “ you 
shall keep them for me till then, if you care so 
much. But show them to me now; for they say 
that pearls grow more beautiful if one carries them 
long close against the heart.” 

“ But I cannot, Gorgo.” 

“ You cannot ! You cannot show me my pearls ! ” 
The cabin rang with her tone, and the horses neighed 
and pawed by the door. 

“ They are still in Athens, Gorgo.” I felt horribly 
ashamed to confess it; yet I could not see that it 
mattered. 

“ You have given my pearls to another, Hagnon’s 
son.” She wailed the words as if I had lain dead 
at her feet. “ You have given the pearls off my 
wrist to some painted thing in your Athens. I will 
not share with her, son of Hagnon. I have seen her 
in dreams — that woman.” 


G O R G O 


289 

“ Dreams, indeed ! ” I cried, hotly. “ What ails 
you, Gorgo ? It is false ! It is false as a Thracian’s 
oath.” 

“I think I would not speak of oaths, this day ; 
and I wonder what gods there were left that you 
swore by, Hagnon’s son, to her. Oh, but it must 
be a dream — like those I waked from. I cannot 
lose you, boy, — not so. Do not vex me, Theram- 
nas, when I am so weary, but draw out the pearls 
from where you have them hidden, and wind them 
on my wrist.” And she held it toward me. 

“ Now that is more like Gorgo,” I said, much 
relieved. “ But I told you true; they are even in 
Athens. Could I bear pearls beneath my corselet 
in battle, or leave a casket of jewels in the straw 
of my tent? Have some reason, Gorgo. When you 
reach out your arm in Athens I will twine it for 
you, and heap your lap with thrice as many of what 
kind you will.” 

“ You mean you would buy them for me, son of 
that Hagnon, — you would buy me jewels — out of 
the shops! I do not wish others, but these. Or 
perhaps you would manage somehow to get them 
back — from her ! But I never will wear them 
again, after her.” 

“ Hush ! ” I cried. “ I will not listen to such 
words. I did not think the world held such a maid.” 

“ Indeed ! I would hope she is different. And 1 
think the world will not much longer hold her, 
either.” 

“ Gorgo! ” 


G O R G O 


290 

“You need not listen. But the horse you will 
have to fban to me again. I will ride the poor beast 
very slowly now, and I will surely send her back to 
you from Sparta, — unless that Phounias — but 
I cannot think Phounias will be so kind.” 

“ Gods of Olympus! ” 

“ Is it those that you swear by ? I would not dare 
myself; but perhaps it is not true that they punish. 
Or if you think they did not hear you or have for- 
gotten, you need not fear that Gorgo will ever re- 
mind them. But this I would advise you, Hagnon’s 
son, to ride on quickly and not wait in these hills 
for Lysander; and that is good counsel.” 

“ It is Lysander, then ! ” My face burned ; my 
voice jarred like an ill-blown trumpet. 

She searched my face, but would not meet my 
eyes. “ I hate Lysander,” she said. “ But in Sparta 
they do not think of women as at Athens ; they vex 
but they do not scorn them. And Lysander is of 
Sparta ; he would never have given my pearls to any 
other — not one pearl.” 

Then first I became aware of certain possibilities 
of rage in^Vny nature. I cursed Lysander foully, 
and all Sparta, — and the folly of men and the mad- 
ness of women. I swore by the Stygian lake, and the 
rivers that roll in darkness, and the dusky shapes 
that lie blotted in Tartarus. 

“ I think it was black enough before,” she said, 
coldly. “ Will you loan me the horse? ” 

I curbed my anger with such effort as flings a 
steed on his haunches in full charge. “ Gorgo ” — 


G O R G O 


291 

and I felt my own voice quivering in a deep, hushed 
note — “I swear no more by any god or any daemon ; 
for if Gorgo’s love is not enough to believe my 
simple word in this, I never will try to convince it.” 

“ Oh ! ” she said. 

“ That I sailed without those pearls is true; but I 
sailed for war, and as I thought for death. I 
deemed that yon Lysander had already taken Gorgo-.” 
She started and turned. “ For nine years no word 
had come from Sparta; the wax was not yet. But 
that ever I gave your token to another, or showed it 
to any eyes but my own, — that, Gorgo, is so false 
that I will never trust my tongue to speak of it 
again.” 

“ Boy ! boy ! ” she began, “ if only — ” 

“ Hush, Gorgo ! or you will relent — and that 
would shame a Spartan. Mount hastily, Gorgo — 
for the horse is yours — and go while the pride of 
Sparta serves you; I shall not speak another word 
to hinder or convince.” 

“ Oh, boy ! if only — ” 

“ Only this, — for the fault I own to I will ask 
you to forgive me, Gorgo, before you ride away 
to drown in Phounias and I go to meet Lysander.” 

“ No, no, Theramnas ! ” She had clasped my 
knees and shook me with her sobs. “ It is for you to 
forgive this Gorgo — and she never will vex you in 
that way again.” 

“ That, Gorgo, I do not quite believe ; nor am I 
sure I would even wish it. Yet before this hour I 


G O R G O 


292 

would have believed you in anything, Gorgo — un- 
less you had told me of this cabin. ” 

“ It is terrible — worse than Phounias. I love 
that Phounias now. But let us leave this place — 
forever.” 

“ It is time. But this I must tell you, Gorgo. I 
have feared your Lysander. For I think that if 
Hagnon’s son had not come to Sparta it would have 
been Lysander. And then Lysander would have 
been less terrible, and I should, have served only 
Athens. But I do not fear Lysander now. That 
fear I leave shut in this cabin.” I lifted the door 
to its place. 

“ And thaf is a rickety door,” she laughed, “ to 
hold back such a fear ; but I think now it will serve 
us, Theramnas.” 

The day was waning fast as we galloped off, 
threading our way through the oaks. The trailing 
mistletoe brushed in our faces. 

“ My poor helot,” she said, as we rose on the 
higher slopes, — “ that strange-speaking Golas ! I 
fear I have lost my helot — that I won from you, 
Theramnas, at peril of my very life.” 

“ And for that he might well die, Gorgo ; if he 
dies to save you I may perhaps pardon him. But I 
think him safe. None is likely to come near enough 
to harm him. And though he lacks speech he has 
the knees of a stag and all the senses of a fox. It 
may be long, but he will follow. Phounias only 
will give him check, for he likes not water.” 

The sun had set; it was moonlight when we 


G O R G O 


293 


reached the topmost level, — the plain of the dead. 
My horse neighed shrilly; Gorgo reined back with 
a scream, half-uttered. For just before us an ar- 
moured horseman sat motionless, his pale plates 
glinting amid the moonbeams. 


XXV. 


That Ly sander 

“TT is a risen ghost ! ” She breathed it with the 

± whisper of a creeping wind. “ He has come 
from beneath those stones.” She pointed 
numbly toward a glimmering mound. “ It is that 
Othryadas — he died here once — on his sword, for 
Sparta’s laws, so long ago. He forbids us, Theram- 
nas — forbids the way to Athens.” 

I was eying the spectre closely, — both the horse 
and the shape that was on it. “ If it be ghost,” I 
said, aloud, “ then I think Lysander has eaten an 
arrow for Golas.” 

“ Indeed it is Lysander,” she cried, “ and that 
is worse.” 

I loosened my knife. “If it be Lysander living, 
a ghost in truth shall rise in this place at our part- 
ing.” 

“ Have you so good a spear ? ” It came in broad 
Dorian out of the moonlit brass. 

“ You shall not fight,” pleaded Gorgo. “ We 
may circle and pass ; his horse is not like these. To 
fight is to lose all, Theramnas. Save me, and do 
not fight.” 

“ Now that is wise tactics,” I muttered. “ We 

294 


G O R G O 


295 

will charge and swerve sharply, like cavalry con- 
voying booty past the foe.” I lifted my voice. “ I 
have with me no spear at this time,” I called back, 
“ but yours, Spartan, is much too short. You will 
need the Macedonian sarissa if you think to touch 
us.” 

His lance clanked on the ground; he raised a 
Cretan bow. “ It is not the weapon of my choice,” 
he said, “ but it reaches somewhat further. Stir 
a hoof, and I shoot : it is Gorgo’s horse that falls. 
Then, Athenian thief, you may spur alone into 
which ambush you will. Or remain, if you like that 
better, and we will fight here with even tools.” 

“ We must venture it,” murmured Gorgo. “ He 
may miss ; and at least it can be no worse. Listen ! 
was that a harp? ” 

The strained bow flew in fragments from his 
grasp. Again that harp-note — the charger fell 
beneath him and lay still. Golas panted beside me. 
“ Kill horse,” he gasped — “ Man too ? ” He gazed 
in my face for a sign. 

“ The man too : ” I pointed to Lysander, just 
rising from the ground. So near was he to death 
— Lysander. 

“ No,” screamed Gorgo. “ You shall not kill 
Lysander.” 

And with that word the walls of Athens fell, 
though to the eye still firm. For the slave’s bow 
dropped with string half-drawn. 

“ Gork’ — helot,” he said, and looked at me stol- 
idly. “ Ookook — not kill.” 


G O R G O 


296 

I smiled, rather grimly. “ At least you shall trim 
his casque with feathers, Golas. That, I trust, the 
goddess Gorka will permit.” 

“ Yes,” she said, “ but not to kill or terribly 
maim. But he may hear that bow, as I heard it. 
I think Lysander too should hear that sound.” 

“ Shoot,” I commanded, “ as when you made 
sport at Catana. Stand fast there, you that would 
cripple horses, for the launched shaft swerves not.” 

The great barbarian bow pealed out with savage 
glee: it shook and roared with Thracian laughter. 
The mocking shafts flew unseen, but fiery sparkles 
danced about the Spartan’s bitten crest, and his face 
was whiter than the moonlight. The feathers 
brushed his cheek and sneered in his ear ; once only 
he flinched. You have heard of the scar on Ly- 
sander’s brow : it was so that he got it. 

“ Gods ! Have done, and make an end.” 

I stilled the bow ; it droned with a disappointed 
whine. “ Do you yield yourself? ” I called. 

“ No,” he answered. “ I am Spartan. But be 
at least a Greek. Try me no more with Medish 
torments.” 

There was little pity in my heart, but I admired 
the man. And Golas was Gorka’s helot now; he 
would not strike home. “ Will you swear to an 
honest truce?” I asked, — 4 4 such as Sparta swore 
with Argos on this very spot ? ” 

“ Aye : for I cannot choose. I will swear by any 
god with any curse.” 

“ Cast down your knife, then, and come near. 


G O R G O 


2 97 

Stand ready, Golas; and if I call again, look not 
at Gorka.” 

He grunted as of old. His blood was hot with 
the shooting. But she — 

“ Do not trust any oath of Lysander,” she cried; 
“ he regards no oath, Theramnas.” 

“ Is it so?” I asked him. He looked at Gorgo. 
“ I do not lie for sport,” he said. “ Oaths — they 
are bugbears for boys : at two cubits, Mormo ; at 
four, Apollo and his shrine. They may have served 
my uses, but will no longer.” 

“ And since they are useless ? ” 

“ Shoot,” he cried, impatiently, “ but split the 
heart.” 

“ Yet there is always one.” I studied his proud, 
hard face. “ Swear by the fortunes of Lysander,” 
I said, suddenly. He blenched. 

Then Gorgo clapped her hands. “ It is that ! it is 
surely that ! You are wonderful, boy — for how 
could you know? I myself did not know.” 

“ I will not swear it.” 

“ As you like : but this is the wisdom of a bull.” 

“ I would pledge to fight you fairly, — the victor 
to bear away his prize unhindered. But the arrow 
that burst my bow has pierced my hand.” He raised 
it ; the blood was trickling from his finger-tips, but 
we had not noticed. 

He staunched the gushing wound with thumb and 
finger. “ If I should fight you with one hand,” he 
continued, “ would Gorgo hold back the Parthian 
when I bore you down ? ” 


G O R G O 


298 

“ No/’ she cried. “ I would not. If one must 
die, it is you, Lysander. Unless you will swear, he 
may shoot.” 

The Spartan scowled. “ What terms? ” he asked. 

“ That you put no further hindrance in Gorgo’s 
path or mine, in word or deed, but leave us to our 
will.” 

“ There must be some limit,” he^ growled. “ I 
will not swear to the ends of time and space. But 
this I offer. In thirty months my age will be thirty 
years ; and that is the age of marriage for a Spartan 
of the mess-table. Thirty months I will swear to 
— but no more.” 

“ It is enough,” I said. He laid his right hand 
in mine and swore by the fortunes of Lysander. 

“ But take note,” he said, “ I swear for none but 
myself.” 

“ In word or deed,” I repeated. 

“ Word or deed — for thirty months I hinder 
not, but leave you to your fate. For by fate I 
have sworn, the one god of power, in whose hand 
the rest are a jigging chorus of puppets. And 
perhaps I think not all so ill of you, Athenian, as 
once I did. If not Lysander, then let it be the son 
of Hagnon; for our fates have crossed, and his 
that can scar me thus has at least some edge of 
temper. We must all pay fortune’s forfeit some- 
where; and if at last I choose to fling away this 
ruby gem, may no fish of the sea bring it back to 
me. But you too ” — and his gashed brow knotted 
till it bled afresh — “ you too shall pay your fated 


G O R G O 


299 


forfeit. If fortune indeed shall grant it to you to 
bear the daughter of Brasidas to Athens, and there 
to wed Lysander’s chosen bride, to me she shall 
grant it to set my spears on your very Acropolis. 
Now, victor, ride forth with your prize where you 
deem that the way lies open, and in thirty months 
reach Athens if you may.” 

We galloped on, with echoing hoof -beats. As 
we passed the crest I looked back: Lysander fol- 
lowed slowly, with trailing spear; between us, far 
more swiftly, ran the crouching shadow that was 
Golas. The moon was at zenith when we reached 
the verge of that rugged steep I so well remembered. 
Ten years ago I had climbed it with bated breath 
— on my way to Gorgo. And now — 

As our horses braced their hoofs down the slope, 
a din of voices broke from the thickets. Darts 
whistled and clattered about us ; the steed of Gorgo 
plunged downward like a loosened boulder, and was 
lost in the gloom. With clenched spurs and the 
leaps of a squirrel I bolted after, — and but for the 
lifting finger of some god, I know not how any 
charger’s sinews could have borne that strain. We 
slid in foaming sluices on the polished rock ; we ran 
down ladders of knotted root; and still from each 
wild bound we rose with the heave of a foundering 
ship, till the sudden level almost smote in our faces. 
We recoiled reeling, as from a reef. My steed stood 
shuddering; the hot blood surged in my veins with 
a rumble like Phounias, and the moonlight grew 
dim. Yet I knew the rude wall that overhung the 


G O R G O 


300 

way, — the nest of a Spartan garrison ; while across 
the track before me lay a bar of shields, with link- 
ing edges, picketed with pikes. These wavered 
mistily, but one shape rose clear. Gorgo! She 
shone above them like a painted Iris limned in 
lucent wax, — her throne foam-filleted now, herself 
adroop, as a rose too roughly handled. 

“ Do you yield? ” a hoarse voice shouted. 

“ You must yield, Theramnas,” a sweeter voice 
called, faintly. 

But they led her behind the wall ; they would not 
let me speak to her. And yet, “ Oh, Theramnas ! 
you will find a way, Theramnas,” she cried, as they 
dragged her through the gate. It clanged and 
grated. 

Me they pulled from my horse. I lay on the spot 
where I fell, giddy and shaking with weariness, 
weak as a figure piled of sand. 

“ Is it ransom or the sword ? ” The harsh tone 
entered my ear, but I could not speak. 

“Neither!” I saw only a blur, but knew that 
Lysander had dragged his spear within the circle. 
“ Neither, Clearchus. You will presently set him 
on his horse and let him go. Or will this be deemed 
an interference, Hagnon’s son ? ” he asked, bending 
over me. And still I could not answer. 

“ I think it will be within my oath. He who 
scars Lysander and leaps the precipice unscathed 
shall not be carved like a bullock in the dust. As 
for the ransom, it is yonder.” He pointed toward 
the wall. 


G O R G O 


301 


“ But the Ephors ? ” The man spoke sourly. 

“ Do the thing I tell you. I will answer the 
Ephors. Give him wine.” 

“ My rule is strict,” grumbled the phylarch. 

“ Mine is stricter. Would you defy me, beater of 
helots? You exceed your office.” 

“ I hold by the Ephors.” 

“ When it suits your crabbed humour — rarely 
else. The Ephors change, — but not Lysander. Is 
not the king’s own brother my backer ? Shall I tell 
a tale of lawless raids, or lie for you, Clearchus? 
Will you have a better command, or a worse? ” 

“ I would go to Asia with Astyochus. The 
Ephors will there be remote. Truth, I like not their 
meddling. I would lead a file.” 

“ You have it.” 

“ And you have this.” He thrust at me with his 
foot, but Lysander jammed it with the pike. 

The wine revived me; I sat up. Lysander 
leaned upon his spear above me. “ She will be safe 
enough,” he said, “ for thirty months. I have sworn 
the one oath; win if you may; I shall not trouble 
her. I will also deal with the others; they shall 
not greatly vex her.” 

“ It is more than the oath. I shame that I doubted 
you.” 

“ You doubted well, son of Hagnon. But that 
is past. Hereafter we will deal with open words 
and open weapons.” 

“ But what of Golas ? I would grieve to lose my 
slave.” 


302 


G O R G O 


He laughed — but the laugh was cold. “ I too 
have grieved for him — if it be that fiend of the 
bow that you speak of. No Heracles ever shot such 
shafts. I left him above, by the ambush, treating 
at double thong-cast with those helots. No dart 
will prick his hide, I think, while his arrows last. 
But I make no truce for the Parthian.” 

I rode forth with the morning; but there was 
now no morning in my heart. Even Golas, it 
seemed — but as I rounded a jutting crag he stood 
before me. I almost took him in my arms. 

“ How did you pass the Spartan line,” I asked, — 
“ the men in full brass, Golas ? ” 

He shook his empty quiver. He lifted up both 
hands, then a single finger. 

And I thought, — “If that deadly quiver were 
not empty, I would even now turn back.” 


XXVI. 


Meletus before the Senate 

I FOUND Meletus in the wine-shop kept by the 
Chalcidian. I knew I should find him there, for 
the wine of the place had the proper tang of resin 
that he loved. 

I felt uneasy about the letter. So much was at 
stake. That, first, must be attended to. I did not 
even wait to go to my father’s house, but entered 
Piraeus by the Marsh-gate and rode quickly through 
the streets without once dismounting. I perceived, 
however, that something quite out of the common 
was in the air. Everybody was talking ; men slapped 
each other on the back and roared with laughter. 
I had rarely seen the city in such good humour. 

When I reached the wine-shop, the Chalcidian 
seemed strangely reticent. He assumed an air of 
mystery; at first he would tell me nothing of Mel- 
etus. But finally, when I mentioned my name and 
explained the urgency of my errand, he led me to 
an inner room and flung open the door. 

Meletus was sitting upon a stool, propping him- 
self against the wall. His condition was some- 
what advanced. He sprang to his feet with a til- 
303 


304 G O R G O 

ler-stick and a volley of oaths, but knew me in- 
stantly. 

“ Is it you, lad ? Then I will sit, for this deck 
is right unsteady and grows worse as the wind 
rises; it is only by deep drink that I can hold my 
footing.” He lurched back on the stool and sat 
with legs wide spread. “ Buckle down the hatches 
again,” he roared at the Chalcidian, — “ but first 
fetch in a fresh flagon of the vintage.” 

His face was rich violet and his tones rather 
raucous, but otherwise his speech flowed on much 
as usual. His look was singularly sheepish. 

“ I will bear no more messages of state, lad, — 
neither for you nor for Nicias. It is not a pilot’s 
business.” 

“ I fear it is not, indeed. What have you done? 
What drunken folly now ? ” 

“ I had in scarce half a flagon ; my wits were at 
their keenest. I told them it was an allegory, like 
Homer — a sort of oracle, mind you — a writing 
after the manner of Orpheus, as it were — what you 
might call an enigma. But they would not have it 
so. One old fellow asked me to recite it to the lyre. 
I had forgot that those cursed things go jigging.” 

“ Are you talking about the letter ? ” 

“ What else? In my view of it Nicias was drunk 
at the writing of it, and no better than the rest of 
us, either. It was all about some bedizened hetaera, 
with more or less mention of you. Those things, 
no doubt, are all well enough at odd times, but in 
my way of thinking they should have no place in a 


G O R G O 


305 

letter of state. They become a source of trouble 
to such as bear official messages.” He looked deeply 
aggrieved. 

“ Shrine of Apollo! Do you mean that you 
opened the letter of Nicias and attempted to ex- 
pound it yourself with the wisdom of half a 
flagon ? ” 

“ It was already open, lad. And as to expound- 
ing, mind you, I had no choice. They had me be- 
fore the full senate to expound the matter, — and 
I would sooner have expounded Scylla and Charyb- 
dis, but I did my best, lad. Yet they laughed 
at me, as if Meletus were some sort of a fool. 
I mind not your laughing, lad, for you laugh mainly 
at the wit of things; but it runs in my mind it was 
me they were laughing at.” 

“ The Harpies snatch you and your expositions ! 
You have somehow made them merry over a very 
grave affair. If not you, what fool read the 
letter?” 

“ I could never unwind such a twisted tangle 
of little lines. I think it was that kind of lister of 
the cargo they call a secretary that read it. First 
he read, and they stared; then he read, and they 
roared ; then they had up Meletus. At the last I 
counseled them to bear it to Delphi — which I 
hold was a shrewd turn. I had no wish to speak 
my thought of Nicias — for it is a mischance that 
might come to any — nor yet to reflect on you, lad. 
So I bade them go to Delphi, where the god would 


306 G O R G O 

doubtless be discreet and might render them some 
prophecy of value.” 

“ Was there, then, so much about me? I did not 
expect it, Meletus.” 

“ Aye, lad. Considerable, I would say — though 
not always in terms of the plainest — and the less 
about Nicias himself. It is not often a man is so 
modest in his drink.” 

“ Nicias, then, was kind. I have misjudged the 
man.” 

“ I would think it likely. But a thought too kind, 
as ’twere, in places. Yet in my interpretation, lad, 
I ever gave it the better turn, as being in the way 
of a parable of your good services.” 

“There was but little, then, about Nicias?” 

“ Less than little, lad — unless it might be by a 
sort of implication.” 

“ And of Lamachus ? ” 

“ Not a syllable. But it is likely he was jealous.” 

“ Did he not entreat to be relieved ? Was there 
no call for aid ? ” 

“ I would say there was some matter of that char- 
acter. But what cast me off my course was this, 
— to the best of my judgment it must needs mean 
help for Syracuse. ‘ She ’ would most likely enig- 
matise a city — would it not be so, think you, enig- 
matically spoken ? ” 

“ You are crazy. Or some enemy has changed 
the tablet. It was opened, you say? ” 

“ Split wide. There was also mention of one 
Lysander, which I took to signify the army before 


G O R G O 


307 


Syracuse. But it may be as you surmise. It has 
wrought like the work of an enemy. They were 
some of them minded to lay me in chains against 
your coming ; but that I avoided with some clever- 
ness, passing out quite suddenly.” 

“Quick, Meletus! What was that tablet like? 
and where did you find it? ” 

“ On your pallet, lad, even as you told me. I 
cannot read those keel tracks, as I have once owned 
to you ; yet I thought it a strange affair of a letter, 
with the marks tattooed, as it were, in the wood. 
But I know not the customary form of a document 
O'f state.” 

“ Meletus, you have made a blunder past belief. 
I would not have had this thing happen for twenty 
talents. I shall be the laughing-stock of all Athens.” 

“ Meletus, too, lad : I mean myself. And I think 
I had the longer oar and the shorter cramp of the 
handle. But it is true, lad : we have met a certain 
accession of reputation. I cannot pass the street 
but they follow me, as it were, with hymns of praise, 
as if I were a new divinity — me that am ever care- 
less of worship. But it is fame, lad, and that all 
men seek. Yet I think it were as well to make back 
soon for Syracuse, for the draught may stale on 
our palates. Now tell me, lad, what manner of 
thing was it that has raised us to this height ? ” 

“ It was hers, Meletus — my own love’s letter. 
And you, with wine-wise leers and a swelling swag- 
ger, have laid it before the senate — with an exposi- 


G O R G O 


308 

tion ! I shall slay myself for very shame. And she 

— I am almost glad she is still in Sparta.” 

He whistled until I heard the passers-by halting 
in the street. “ But, lad, I think you were de- 
ceived. I have heard nothing like it, — and I am 
no priest of Cybebe, mind you. You were deceived, 
and therefore sped not. It is the true Orphic; there 
is the very ring of Bacis in it. Now mark ” — and 
he waved an unsteady finger. “ That much men- 
tion of a certain symbol set forth in the figure of 
Gorgo, which as I receive it implies a manner of 
turning into stone, — that might well express this 
same Nicias — ” 

“ Silence! Is it not enough that you spoke these 
things before the senate? ” 

“ Who by the turning of stones — ” 

“ I will hear no more of it,” I cried, and fled 
from the chamber. 

“ You will hear much more of it, lad,” he bel- 
lowed after me, “ but from such as interpret with 
no gentleness or judgment.” 

I did hear much of it. For a space of days I 
was the jest of the market, the mirth of every ban- 
quet. Yet it passed — like all else after a little 

— and I was but the better liked and better known 
for this. Alas! no jest is a jest to the gods, — 
unless all be a jest. Even here they were shaping 
the city’s doom : out of comedy came tragedy. 

I went to the ship, where it lay in the dock; I 
found the letter of Nicias deep in my pallet. I laid 
it before the senate; it was read to the people in 


G O R G O 


309 

full assembly. A pathetic thing it was to hear, 

— that cry of Nicias out of his waning camp in the 
marshes. But they only laughed and called back, 

— “ That other was better, Gorgon hunter. Read 
that, and let the pilot expound it for us.” And 
Meletus hooded his face and hid in a harness- 
shop. 

“ I thought them the less likely to seek me in 
that place,” he explained, afterward. “ But the flat 
leather cordage hung all about me, and I know not 
but I had a sort of curbing rope on me. Do you 
know lad, — I whinnowed over my wine that 
night ! ” 

I was true to my promise. I pleaded for Nicias, 
and yet more I pleaded for the army ; but say what 
I would, I could not make them take me seriously. 
“ You are too impatient, Gorgon queller,” they cried. 
“ You shall back to Syracuse; and when that is 
taken, Sparta shall give you this Gorgon as part of 
the price of peace.” Their spirits ran so high that 
even the disappointment of their hopes could not 
daunt them. Nicias they would not recall, nor the 
army; but they voted a second armament as great 
as the first, naming Demosthenes to lead the hoplites 
and Eurymedon for the ships. Again the city rang 
with preparation. 

“ It is indeed all or nothing, now,” I said to 
my father. “ Would that they had recalled 
Nicias! Would that they had never banished 
Alcibiades ! ” 


He answered only with the words of Theognis : — 

He whose soul wishes weal oft is a means of abasement, 
Whiles who had wrought to do bale proves but a craftsman of 
weal. 

“ Do you mean Nicias and Alcibiades? ” 

“ Nicias is a good man, devout and prudent. I 
have great confidence in Nicias, my son. Of Alci- 
biades I expect no good. I have never trusted 
him — the traitor ! ” 

This answer puzzled me somewhat. If so he 
meant it, my father had uttered an oracle in those 
lines he recited, — an oracle it proved ; yet whether 
the wisdom on his lips was from the heart I cannot 
say. There are times when the gods play strange 
tricks with the tongue. 

Of Gorgo I somehow could not talk to my 
father. Much less to others; it would have been 
to invite a jeer. I had been assigned to 1 Eurymedon, 
who was to sail with ten picked triremes in advance 
of the main fleet, bearing money and instructions. 
I was kept very busy ; I felt, too, that I was watched. 
Still, Gorgo was ever in my thoughts. Of the thirty 
months one had already passed ; could I spare four 
more for Syracuse? For three or four, I thought, 
would surely make or mar in Sicily, — and then 
I would be free to win or die in Sparta. My oath 
to Nicias troubled me; already I had played with 
it. There was but one man in Athens with whom 
I could debate this thing or who could in any way 
help me. To him at last I went — to Socrates. 


G O R G O 


3i i 

It was early morning. I found him sitting beside 
his own door, a child upon his knee. A querulous 
voice from within called it. “ Go, little son,” he 
said, “ to your mother ; and see that you do as 
she bids.” The child went slowly, looking back; a 
gaunt arm reached out and seized it. 

I almost turned away. How could a man such 
as this advise the lover of Gorgo ? But the tranquil 
strength of his soul reached out and drew me to 
him as surely as that other had dragged in the 
child; and while the harsh voice behind the wall 
rated the wailing babe, I stood before Socrates 
and told him all my trouble. 

“ Let us walk together,” he said. “ These noises 
jar upon the thoughts. And I suppose that you 
wish to reason of this matter and decide it accord- 
ing to reason; for otherwise you would not have 
come to me.” 

“ Socrates ” — I could not forbear the question 
as we passed from the strident clamour of his door 
— “ Socrates, did the spirit never warn you of this 
trouble? ” 

“ In that alone,” he said, “ I did not heed the 
voice. I bear the penalty with such patience as 
I may. She loves me, after her fashion, and the 
children.” His face clouded for a moment as he 
spoke of the children ; but quickly, “ I am a great 
trial to Xanthippe,” he continued, smiling. “ But, 
indeed, all things are a trial to her. Enough of 
that. She cannot make her peace with the gods of 
little things.” 


3 12 


G O R G O 


“ Socrates,” I cried, “ does the spirit forbid me 
Gorgo? ” And I held my breath. 

“ The voice forbids not Gorgo,” he said, slowly. 
I sighed like a diver as he rises from his plunge. 
Yet I had noted a certain accent in that answer, as 
of surprise. 

“ You yourself would not have said it, Socrates? ” 

“ The spirit is the wiser. Let us obey the spirit.” 

“ The spirit is greater than Delphi. Yet I would 
not have obeyed.” 

“ You would still have fulfilled your fate, The- 
ramenes.” 

“ What is my fate? ” 

“ I know not. The voice speaks nothing of that. 
But this I may say to you : your soul is ever better 
than your thought; your death is better than your 
life.” 

“It is a hard word, Socrates.” 

“ And your life shall be better than your fame.” 

“ That is an evil word — a cruel word.” For 
in that moment I felt the pang of an age-long con- 
tumely — the brand of a lying record ever burning 
on my brow. “ I will not fulfil this fate. I will 
go to my death in Sparta — it shall not find me 
in Athens, as once you said. To Syracuse I will 
not go. What matters it of an oath when fame is 
lost?” 

“ Your fate will be fulfilled, and I myself shall 
live to see it, though soon to follow by the same 
hard-beaten path.” 

“The hemlock! You, too, Socrates?” 


G O R G O 


3i3 

“ The hemlock. Do you think to- avoid it? Do 
you think to find your Gorgo on the road of a 
broken oath? Your fate will be fulfilled — and 
mine. But the soul we might slay.” 

“ For Gorgo I will do anything.” 

“ Then for Gorgo keep your oath. Wait, and 
all things shall come to you.” 

“ I must sail? past the prison of Gorgo? ” 

“ The thirty months shall not have passed before 
you see her face.” 

“ Is it the voice? ” 

“ The voice.” 

“ I will sail back to the marshes.” 

“ And dally not again by the way. The gods 
will not bless a broken oath ; have you not already 
tried it?” 

At the corner of the market I met Meletus. A 
mob of boys was about him, and one, who had 
brought a papyrus o»f Homer from his school, was 
asking if the tale of Thersites had any reference to 
Syracuse. “ It might chance that the symbol Odys- 
seus enigmatises Meletus,” roared the pilot, and 
swung his stick. But as I approached, he flung them 
pff and strode toward me. 

“ Lad,” he cried, “ I have the news. We sail 
to-morrow where I trust it may be permitted to 
walk without an escort. By the bones of all that 
have met a good death by drowning, I am weary of 
this hero-worship. But,” he added, “ you shall 
deliver the letters of state. I will none of it: I 
would sooner ride a horse.” 


XXVII. 


The Beginning of the End 

T HE voyage was ended. Sparta, with its lure 
of love and death, lay far behind. The grotto 
of Gorgo had been passed without a sign. The 
great Sicilian city mounted up before us until we 
saw the rolling waves break white beneath its sea- 
wall. Beyond, a new castle sat on the heights, far 
up the slope, and from this ran down a line of wall, 
with many angles and thrice with clustered turrets, 
until at length it met the city’s bar of buttressed 
masonry below. 

“ Nicias will have no more use for his ballast- 
stones laid in tar,” remarked Meletus. 

“ No,” I said, “ our eagle now nests in the 
swamp.” 

“ Eagle, say you ! the bird is an owl, and I would 
counsel it to hunt by night according to its nature.” 

I turned in some astonishment. “ Meletus, there 
is surely wit in wine. It is shrewd advice.” 

“ Any good pilot,” he answered, rather pom- 
pously, “ could steer an army if they would give 
him the sweeps. It is much the same: you must 
never be so unhandy as to strike bows on and burst 
3M 


G O R G O 


3i5 

your beak; the trick is to double and swing in on 
them.” 

We dropped our sail and rode between the 
giant’s nipping thumb and finger at the harbour’s 
entrance, into the hollow of his grasp. He had us 
fast now, but as yet none guessed it. 

Most of our ships were lying in the shallows 
close to the camp ; to reach them we steered through 
a palisade of stout pickets planted in the mud. This 
gave me a shock : when before had the ships of 
Athens, with water under them, needed other pickets 
than their own sharp prows ? Meletus, too, noted it ; 
but his glance swung round the harbour. 

“ Old Nicias is a hindersome creature,” he said, 
“ better at ballasting than making seaway. But here 
he reefs up with some sense of the weather. Who 
could rightly order a sea-fight in this mixing-bowl? ” 

He looked toward the city. There, too, the water 
lapped on a palisade of sunken logs, behind which 
was gathered an array of ships that seemed still 
greater than our own. “ Corinthians mostly,” he 
commented. “ Too thick in the snout for grace or 
speed, and heavy on the sweeps, — but had I the 
handling of them it should go hard with us, lad, 
in this hole. Their main lack is of a sufficient pilot, 
lad.” 

“ I heard at Corey ra that they have now one 
Ariston.” 

“ Ariston of Corinth ? Then shall Nicias see good 
sport, lad. That man is a very artist of the craft, 
though his boats are but logs. This is better than 


G O R G O 


316 

wine. I will run in upon him with such an exposi- 
tion of devices for cramped encounter as shall burst 
his ribs with some profit to his skill, — unless he 
should lack due leisure through bodily mischance. 
But I trust he swims well, for I would shame to 
leave so worthy a pilot bobbing in no depth of water. 
Lad, it is twice the pleasure to apply the art to a 
receptive judgment.” And Meletus alone was merry 
in all the camp. 

Within a few days of our arrival a great disaster 
befell. The Syracusans sailed with all their fleet 
to the mouth of the harbour, — to close it, we feared, 
and went against them with fewer ships. At the 
first we were hard pressed, and the soldiers in our 
fortress on the headland thronged to the water-front 
and cheered us with cries. For this Gylippus had 
waited. Three thousand ambushed hoplites rushed 
upon our undefended wall, and it was ours no more. 
The men, indeed, escaped, fleeing in boats through 
the thick of the sea-fight, which at this very moment 
turned in our favour. The enemy’s craft, ill-steered, 
fell foul, and Meletus, with others of his kind, darted 
among them making havoc : eleven they took or 
sunk. But though we still maintained our access 
to the sea, our convoys passed in peril bringing 
scanty corn. The giant’s grip had tightened and we 
felt its pinch. 

Of all our fighting on and in and round about 
those accursed waters I shall not attempt to tell; 
something there was each day. But of our assault on 
the line of piles which shielded their inner harbour, 


G O R G O 


317 


almost under the city’s walls, of that I must speak, 
for it was out of the common. And as this was a 
matter of enginery, Nicias, of course, was the plan- 
ner. 

He had received the letters from Athens with little 
comment; though disappointed he seemed not at 
all surprised. “ The responsibility will at least be 
divided now,” he said, “ and with such an armament, 
if we may not take the city we may at least with- 
draw with safety and credit. May the Holy Goddess 
of the Mysteries grant that we go not to her before 
this aid arrives! But was there no word of with- 
drawal, under certain conditions and after a sea- 
son ? ” 

“ Not a syllable,” I told him. “ They account 
Syracuse as taken. If it comes to withdrawal, you 
yourself must make the order, Nicias.” 

- “I will take no chances of the hemlock. Better 
to die in this swamp.” 

“ But the army? and Athens? ” 

“ It lies in the lap of the gods,” he answered. 
“ I shall do my duty and obey to the very letter.” 

But his health seemed much improved, and his 
mind was full of new schemes of enginery. He 
procured a merchant vessel of heaviest burden, and 
fitted it with cranes and turrets. 

“ Give me of your best bows,” he said, “ for the 
summits. Below I will have darters. Slingers I 
cannot use for lack of space to swing the cord.” 

“ Does he think to grub for sunken treasure? ” 
grumbled Meletus. Yet he undertook the steering 


G O R G O 


3i8 

of this floating fortress without much protest; and 
the thing worked beyond expectation. 

As we swung down toward the piles the Syra- 
cusans came out against us in small boats, with which 
they almost paved the water. But they did not press 
close, — they scarcely reached the fringe of our fall- 
ing missiles; for Golas, whom I had placed on the 
highest top, ever smote the foremost till none dared 
invite his shaft. Some of their lesser craft he even 
sunk, shooting high in air and striking through 
the bottoms with falling arrows. Meanwhile our 
cranes were busy plucking up the logs. Some were 
stubborn, but our divers plunged in boldly and sawed 
them off beneath the water; we did not stop till 
all were out. Yet but for Meletus we should have 
missed some of them. As we were moving off he 
swung suddenly. 

“ See that swirl,” he cried. “ Those Sicilian ot- 
ters have been setting snags to rip good bottoms 
under the water-line.” And he swore by the rivers 
of hell. 

We turned back. These, too, we sawed off, Mele- 
tus pointing out each one. Yet little came of it. A 
cow that was opened lacked liver, — and so did 
Nicias; he would not strike. Syracuse was not 
idle, and soon the low swell foamed on a new 
barrier of piles. 

“What are they doing over yonder?” I asked 
Meletus one day. 

“ They have caught the trick of Nicias now,” he 
growled. “ As well as I can descry it, lad, at long 


G O R G O 


319 


eye-cast, they are turning good ships into bunting- 
engines, — the sort of thing you use to ram a gate. 
They have braced their cat-heads and brought them 
to fore, after a manner of bull’s horns; I would 
surmise they are thinking to meet us with bull’s 
tactics. It is a coarse device, lad, but it suits the 
cast of the coast. It is likely to be the contrivance 
of that same Ariston, who slipped me with a foul 
turn in the coil by yonder gut, where those fellows 
rubbed off their own fins by sheer misdirection. 
Three times I was cramped between shorn hulks,” 
he added, disgustedly. “ You cannot count on them ; 
the running of such raw pilots would puzzle Posei- 
don.” 

Again Meletus was right. Indeed, the enemy 
presently became so bold with their new equipment 
that they drew out and dared us before our own 
enclosure. That we could not take tamely. We led 
against them, though Gylippus was giving Nicias 
hot work along the walls behind. All that day 
we held them in check, but with little result, for 
they stood together too close for a circuit and would 
only meet us full on the bow. 

After supper Meletus, who had drunk less heavily 
than his wont, rose up and demanded that I lead 
him to' Nicias. I could not doubt that he had his 
reasons, but I did the thing reluctantly. The gen- 
eral started up from before his silver shrine and 
faced us. 

“ Nicias, lad,” began Meletus — but stopped sud- 


320 


G O R G O 


denly. “ The god’s fire-fork, but I am off my bear- 
ings,” he said, hoarsely. 

Nicias scowled. “ Is this a season for unseemly 
jesting? ” His eyes were fixed on me. “ But this is 
what comes of our mistaken policy of turning honest 
citizen hoplites into' blasphemous sailors. We may 
thank Pericles for this.” 

“ The god’s fire-fork ! ” broke in Meletus, “ in my 
view of it he could never make a pilot of a hoplite. 
It is the sort they have over yonder. But now they 
have taken counsel of a pilot of the craft, — and, 
you see, they are even tossing their horns in our 
faces. And I thought, ‘ Our old Nicias here is a 
sufficient land-pilot, mind you, but he, too, in these 
matters of shipping, might well take counsel with 
a master of the craft.’ So I cast down the flagon 
I was sipping at, and steered a straight course.” 

“ Sir,” I said, “ he is rough, but he knows his 
business. He has some word.” 

“ That’s it, sir. Meletus knows his business and 
has a good word for old Nicias. And I thought, 
it being after the manner of his enginery, he may 
well grasp it. I think they are minded to bunt us.” 

“ I fear it,” said Nicias. 

“ They will bunt hard now. It is in my thought 
they may bunt us clean off the harbour, for this 
pond gives no' seaway, and their bows are too stiff 
for our beaks. Now in case we should be pressed 
back behind the stocks — in some dismay, it might 
happen, and ill trim to fight further in no space at 


G O R G O 


321 

all — what hinders them to follow in and make 
splinters of us ? ” 

“ It is well thought of.” 

“ In my manner of thinking a landsman should 
ever counsel with some sufficient pilot. Now this 
is the way of it. There is a thing called a dolphin, 
made of lead beaked with iron ; it is swung from 
a spar, and may be dropped through deck and bot- 
tom if any come too near. The lubberly merchants 
use it against pirates. It is unseamanly, but suits 
here. Let certain of these dolphins be set on grain- 
barges and moored close by the openings. If it 
needs we shall pass through to safety, while of those 
who follow you will see some snared and the rest 
will turn. And I thought, as being a manner of 
enginery — ” 

“You shall see to' the mounting of them to-mor- 
row. Are you not that Meletus who steered this 
youth to Athens, and lately discovered the hidden 
piles? ” 

“ The very man,” I cried, “ but his modesty kept 
it back.” 

“ Now by the god’s — ” 

“ Say not that thing again,” exclaimed Nicias. 

“ Well — it indeed lacks the needful variety — but 
may the fires of Phlegethon roll down my throat 
if ever I was thus accused, even at Athens, where 
babes unborn leap with fear at mention of charges. 
It is but a land fashion in my view of it, this pride 
of modesty. On the sea we brag in plain, set terms, 
as you shall hear me when I have rightly nipped 


322 


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that Ariston. But the snags I had merely forgot. 
It is no special matter for a pilot to mark the mean- 
ing of a riffle, and I would account the main credit 
to them that dived.” 

“ I find the son of Hagnon right in his rating of 
you,” said Nicias. “ But curb your tongue, Meletus, 
and deal lightly with the flagon.” 

“ Yet it was out of the flagon that I had it,” 
he muttered, as we left the tent. “ It slipped from 
my hand; then I thought of those dolphins. And 
as for the fire-fork, it has been on my tongue devils 
often and no harm of it.” 

The next day was wholly spent in preparation 
on both sides of the bay; but the morning after 
saw their full fleet ranged against us, while Gylippus 
pressed on our wall with redoubled din. Yet at 
first it was just as before: as long as the shadows 
fell inland both fleets held aloof like cautious boxers ; 
and when at last they pointed toward the city with 
short, black fingers, the enemy drew away to their 
harbour. We also landed and made ready for dinner. 

“ The sun was too hot for them to-day,” remarked 
Meletus, draining a huge flagon. “ They have been 
soon satisfied, but I am the more content.” He 
flung down the empty leather with a roar. “ Fires 
of Phlegethon, they are at us again ! They have had 
their meat by the sea; it is the very trick of that 
Ariston.” 

We rushed back to our boats, unfed; with fierce 
haste we manned them and led out, yet in time. 


G O R G O 


323 


Again the combat hung; the shadows drifted sea- 
ward ; none would venture. 

But the head of Meletus hummed with wine, and 
his stomach grew impatient; his ship swung back 
and forth with reversing oars. A wind had arisen ; 
the line before us swayed, and some of the prows 
were flung far forward. The pilot could resist 
no longer. His cry to the oars rang out ; the spruce 
bent like a bow, the beak shot forth like the arrow : 
before any could hinder he had cleft the nearest 
galley just behind the cat-head. Others rushed upon 
him; he reversed, drew back, reversed again, and 
cut the foremost through the side. The battle was 
on. 

Would that Meletus might have stood at every 
helm ! but such skill as his was rare even on Athe- 
nian decks. The heavy-headed galleys thronged 
upon our line, driven by tug of oar and drift of 
wind ; it was like the rush of a drove of boars upon 
herdsmen armed with light javelins. Their hard 
tusks thrust us back with cruel gorings : beaks 
bent and broke away ; our very prows were 
crushed; few ships were sunk, but all our fleet 
was crippled. We fled behind our pickets, hotly 
chased, — Meletus last, steering with a loose oar 
snatched from the upper bank, and smearing the 
air with curses. He passed the gap, the enemy close 
upon his stern: “ Let loose! ” he yelled. The spar 
creaked and sprung; the huge dolphin dived to the 
bottom through splintering timbers and shrieking 
crew. Another dolphin crashed; the Syracusans 


G O R G O 


324 

swam like rats, but none escaped. The pursuing 
herd sheered off with much clashing of horns ; Mel- 
etus would still have made out at them, but none 
would follow. He strode his battered deck in a rage 
which not even the rivers of hell could assuage, 
though he called on them. 

“ He pinched me — that Ariston,” he foamed. 
“ That son of Pyrrichus by the night hag nipped 
off both my sweeps. My beak was fouled in one of 
their barges, and another had jammed me. It lacked 
little that son of a shark had swallowed me whole, 
but we wrenched free with push-poles and drove 
through.” He paused to speak of Phlegethon and 
Styx. 

“Well?” I said. For my station had been by 
the dolphins at his own request, and I had seen but 
a part. 

“Well, is it? And that expresses the shortness 
of your wit. In my thinking it lacked little of ill. 
For there was Meletus behind them, with staved 
bows and tailless sweeps and broken banks, and that 
eater of wood prodding at the stern-post. Twice I 
evaded the ripping of his tusks with close rubs 
and further loss of oars. I steered through with 
this deck-swab.” And he cast down the oar. “ I 
had hope he would take the dolphin, but he left that 
to the heady fools. I will brace my bows for the 
ramming of stone-barges. I will split his bull’s 
head through the very teeth. He shall swim for it 
yet — the Corinthian carpenter ! ” 

But the camp was pale with dismay. We had 


G O R G O 


325 


suffered defeat on the sea ; the talk was all of flight ; 
even Nicias wavered. Whatever the course we 
chose, our broken bows must be mended; so we 
rose with the dawn and toiled all day with hammer 
and axe, while the ships of Syracuse hovered at the 
mouth of the bay. 

I viewed them uneasily. “ Can it be their thought 
to bar us from the sea?” And then first I was 
frightened. 

“ I would credit them with it/’ answered Meletus, 
glancing up from the timber he was shaping. “ They 
are guided now by a pilot, lad. It will be most 
like that slave of a blacksmith to seek to chain the 
gut.” He dropped his adze and gazed intently. 
“ There are sea-eagles on the wing, lad. The gulls 
are scattering.” 

So it seemed. The Syracusan craft were hurrying 
toward the inner port. Soon the pennant of Athens 
fluttered between the battlemented promontories ; 
her paean sounded across the bay. A mighty pha- 
lanx of ships was marching in, with oars that stepped 
true to the pipes and a brazen gleam from the 
crowded decks. Five abreast they came, and their 
column was fifteen deep. 

My fear breathed away in a sigh. “ We shall yet 
win Syracuse.” 

“ And I will yet sink that Ariston,” responded 
Meletus. 


XXVIII. 


The Great Disaster 

T HEN it was that Demosthenes planned the 
night attack. The coming of this man had 
cheered us more than the force he brought. 
His presence was like a fresh wind from the sea 
blowing over the marshes ; again we felt the thrill 
of true leadership. 

The Syracusans raided on the plain no longer. 
Gylippus lay close behind his own walls now, and 
our dinted fence had peace. The harbour, too, was 
ours, to the very pickets of the inner port, and the 
sea beyond was again but part of the flowing mantle 
of Attica. Yet while the fortress of the Spartan 
stood on the shoulder of the heights, and convoys 
of grain and arms, and troops of new allies still 
passed by the winding wall down to the city, Syra- 
cuse could never be taken ; its siege was not begun. 

The night attack was bitterly opposed by Nicias : 
the plan was too bold, the hazard too great. 

“ Shall we waste again the prestige and the terror 
of our coming?” pleaded Demosthenes. “Shall 
we lie in the swamp with rotting planks and a rotting 
army till the rank fogs and the gods’ impatience 
of sluggards do the work of Syracuse? ” 

326 


G O R G O 


327 

Then Nicias, at mention of the gods, began a 
homily. They had never favoured our project; they 
would still cast down our hope. But there were 
other voices now : he was overruled. 

“ Have a care,” said Eurymedon, “ lest we think 
you loath to let another win and hold the prize that 
Nicias won and lost.” 

“ That Nicias won! ” interrupted Menander. “ It 
was Lamachus rather that won it, and this son of 
Hagnon with his devil archer. Nicias here but piled 
the stone.” 

I begged of Demosthenes a place in the ranks, — 
quickly granted. I put on the full armour of a 
hoplite and buckled up my heavy shield ; I chose for 
use a square-headed pike, not likely to bend at the 
point. The moon rode high at our starting, but had 
sunk far down the sky before we reached the pass ; 
for we made a wide circuit. 

Strict even to death was the order of silence : a 
faint crisping of armour and a low thud of buskined 
feet could alone be heard. We climbed the narrow 
defile, deep in shadow; we found the stockade un- 
watched, and our mechanics — for a train of them 
attended — cut through with saws dipped in oil. We 
stood by the fortress gate ; there was still no alarm. 
We rammed with an olive trunk and burst in ; the 
guard sprang to arms with loud cries, but made no 
stand. Some we slew, but many fled down the line 
of wall spreading panic; the clash of brass swelled 
from below. 

“ On ! ” shouted our leader. “ Lose not a mo- 


G O R G O 


328 

ment.” And we charged down the hill. They still 
fled before us. We took the first turreted camp with 
little resistance. Our workmen were already pulling 
down the wall behind. 

A Dorian paean sounded in our front; another 
rang out in our rear. We halted in blank dismay, 
— I, too, flinched with the rest; our whole line 
was disordered and wavering. 

“ On ! ” called Menander, out of the glimmer. 
“ The Argives — it is but the cry of our own Ar- 
gives behind.” 

We rallied and again plunged forward. Before 
us tossed a lake of glinting shields — a broad lake 
it seemed in the moonlight. Gylippus himself was 
leading up against us ; yet we routed him — even 
Gylippus — and followed the clanging fugitives with 
unabated, breathless pace. Few were overtaken : but 
a new paean swelled on the slope, and as we turned 
an angle a dense phalanx of Theban hoplites rippled 
moonlight full in our faces. 

We paused for a better formation, yet charged 
them with but a fraction of our strength. There was 
the reef on which our fortune broke at last; for 
they met us like some dark, deep-rooted reef over 
whose sullen rocks the water sparkles. Their dogged 
Boeotian pikes thrust us back; my shield I left im- 
paled; we turned in dismay, clashing with the tide 
that pressed behind us: the long line heaved with 
panic. 

All was lost. We strove to rally in vain. We 
ran this way and that in aimless squads, uncertain 


G O 


R 


G O 


329 


of friend or foe; we fell by our own spears. The 
enemy, too, were in confusion. They had rallied 
from every side ; the hosts were mingled ; we heard 
about us all the dialects of Greece. Our pass-word 
was shouted until all had it, — and thus it became 
a snare. 

44 The word ? ” I called to a huge spearman 
on the incline above me. He gave it. 44 To the 
front ! ” I cried, seizing his arm, — and reeled from 
his blow. A black shadow loomed over me; I 
seemed to feel a knife across my throat. 

As I fell the peal of a bow-string had mingled 
with the singing in my head. I had lost all track 
of Golas, but now found myself borne swiftly in 
his arms. He ran straight for the verge of the 
cliffs, and when we reached it I had my senses but no 
strength. A stream of men, wide but thin, was 
pouring over it; a crashing and moaning rose from 
below. He scarcely paused, but with one arm for 
me and another for the rocks, using his bare feet 
in the fashion of an ape, he swung down by juts 
and crevices and narrow ledges, safely to the bottom. 
He laid me over his shoulder as he carried me 
through the marsh. I looked back; I could see 
quite clearly, for the sky was reddening and the 
mist but slight; the flashing stream still poured 
from the precipice and writhed below. Yet from 
that soughing pool many rose and ran on : some 
across the flats, like Golas, and these were saved; 
while others, newly arrived, turning inland to avoid 


330 


G O R G O 


the marsh — I saw the dust-cloud of the Syracusan 
horse, and knew the fate of wanderers. 

Demosthenes had led his own detachment down 
the defile and fought his way back to the camp. His 
spirit was broken ; he hoped no more. 

“ Let us leave this deadly spot while we may,” 
he said, when the generals met. “ I was wrong, 
perhaps, — but that is past. Athens needs us ; a 
Spartan army sits on the hills of Attica. The ships 
are ready ; the way lies open ; let us make no more 
mistakes.” 

But again the counsels of Nicias were uppermost. 
He had won great credit by his foresight ; he almost 
triumphed in our defeat. 

“ I warned you of this,” he answered. “ And 
now, because you have failed in one rash venture, 
will you fling away the success that waits on wiser 
methods? I tell you, Syracuse is almost spent. I 
have messages ; we have friends within her walls. 
Wait: you will soon be listening to proposals for 
surrender. You are newly come and raw in this 
place. Will you sooner face the assembly of Athens 
than the enemy? The very soldiers who now 
clamour for retreat will turn and denounce us.” 

“ I will sooner die by their voices than betray 
their lives,” said Demosthenes. But his will was 
overborne. 

We waited: Nicias still had his messages; but 
the enemy grew more insolent day by day. Once 
more they ranged themselves before our prows and 
taunted us until we could refrain no longer. But 


G O R G O 


33i 


the squadron led by Eurymedon was forced upon the 
shoals; and there, they say, he died, crushed amid 
his broken timbers. For I was not with him, but 
fought on the shore among those who beat back the 
charge of Gylippus. Eighteen ships we lost; the 
rest we saved by mighty efforts on sea and land, 
for many were grounded. A second time we were 
worsted : we — with ships ! And neither defeat nor 
victory brought any respite; the night brought no 
rest. 

Meletus sat in the gloom gnawing a morsel of 
dried fish. “ We are in hard case, lad,” he said, 
sulkily. 

“ We are.” 

“ Curse their drovers’ tactics ! I could not reach 
him; I see no mending of it. And, lad, there is 
scarce a flagon in all the stores. Meletus is heeding 
the counsels of old Nicias now, mind you. It was 
not my thought, but hard luck ever betters disci- 
pline, and there is a sort of urgency of persuasion 
in lacking. Fish — washed down with a flow of the 
element the creature swims in — I am cold as a 
fish myself, lad — Phlegethon ! ” 

A red light shone on the water ; the camp was in 
sudden uproar. 

“ God’s fork ! they are at us again. That sweep- 
smashing son of the bellows is blowing fire on the 
fleet. He would burn what is left of us.” 

We ran to the shore and leaped into a boat. A 
fire-ship, crackling with tar and fagots, was bear- 
ing down with the wind directly toward the gap. 


332 


G O R G O 


Other boats were already about it, thrusting back 
with poles, but the drift was too strong and the heat 
beyond endurance. Meletus, who had called to his 
seamen as he ran, made for the nearest barge of 
dolphins, cut the moorings, manned deck-oars, and 
swung out. The fire roared close on the bow. 

“ Steady, there! ” he cried. 

The long spar trembled in the mounting flames. 
It blazed; the cordage parted; the heavy missile 
broke down through fire and keel. The drowning 
embers hissed, and the red light dimmed in clouds 
>f steam. 

“ Push off athwart the wind,” he shouted to the 
boats ; and the sagging hulk lay lodged against our 
piles, still flaming in the upper parts, but harmless. 

“ There is a certain system about it,” remarked 
Meletus, fanning his blistered face with a rag of 
sail. “ For every play of action there is a way 
of counter, — if you know the turn of it, and our 
old Nicias hinders not. It was no discreditable 
performance, as I would think, for one called 
hastily from a fish diet.” 

But Meletus, whether he uttered it in jest or ear- 
nest, was wrong in that word about better discipline 
under privation. The camp was almost insurgent: 
so loud was the call for retreat that Nicias him- 
self at last gave the command, though muttering 
still of messages; he could never withstand the cry 
of many voices. Our ships were trimmed for flight, 
our last stores laid in the hold, and we were to sail 
with the break of the morning. 


G O R G O 


333 


The moon was again at full, but seemed strangely 
dim; there was scarcely a cloud in the sky, yet it 
waned until it seemed a pallid film. 

Meletus laid a cold hand on my shoulder. “ It 
is a portent, lad, if I can read the signs. That 
moon is dead, and yonder thing is but a sky-ghost, 
as it were. I have seen them : dead men rise from 
the ooze after it. Old Nicias had the right of it, 
lad.” He spoke in hoarse tones, and abated of his 
oaths. 

A black blot grew on the edge of the disk, — 
which passed through all its phases in an hour. 

“ The time is dying, too, lad. It is already the 
old and new day of the month — or the ghost of 
it — and I fear it portends a manner of payment 
of debts.” His voice was hollow, as if he spoke 
from under the hatches. “ I will heed old Nicias 
henceforth to the end of it.” 

The moon had left the sky ; a moan of fear filled 
the darkness. True, the stars were there, but they 
shone with portentous brightness yielding little light, 
and hung low, as if about to fall. 

“ It is but natural,” I protested, faintly. “ Anax- 
agoras has written of it.” 

His broad hand shut on my mouth; I thought 
he would have choked me. “ Speak not here of 
such a spyer upon god’s mysteries,” he gasped in 
my ear. “ I account him little else but an atheist, 
lad. It is a perilous profane babble, that book- 
writing of prying sophists ; far worse, by god’s fire- 
f — and there is what comes of starting ill speeches 


G O R G O 


334 

out of season,” he concluded, angrily. I was almost 
of the same mind at that moment. 

“ It is still aloft there,” he said, presently, “ but 
in some sort buried, I would say; and that is a 
sign to us, lad. Its look is most like to a shield 
that has lain long under brine. It is drowned, lad : 
there is water up yonder, as you may have heard 
— a great sea that the dead ships sail on, and when 
the wind tosses it there is rain.” 

A thin margin of light appeared, and brightened, 
until the full moon shone out once more amid the 
paling stars, and its sheen grew dazzling; yet it 
brought small comfort. 

“ The time is stark dead,” repeated Meletus. “ A 
month is dead in a night, and I am as ill as dead with 
the thought. There is nothing done but dying in 
dead days, lad. We cannot sail; the day is past. 
It confounds me, lad. I shall hold by old Nicias; 
he has a nose for the weather signs of things to 
come, and will take the right meaning of it.” 

The morning passed ; not a ship was moved. All 
waited for Nicias; and after long consultation with 
his diviners he came forth alone. For thrice nine 
days we must hold the camp, he told us : a full 
circle of the moon must pass without action. 
“ This,” he said, “ is the manifest will of the gods, 
and none shall call it in question.” And with that 
he looked toward his colleagues, who stood apart 
in a dejected group. “ There has been too much 
of debate and too little of devotion in this place, 
as the god himself has witnessed to us. But with 


G O R G O 


335 

due obedience to the sign thus shown from above 
to check our folly, I have great hope.” 

Few shared his hope, but none disputed his present 
judgment. We sat in the reek of the swamp, silent, 
watching the oily ripples that swirled by our soaking 
keels. The very sky was hostile; the hot sunshine 
glared cheerlessly. We pined for the bright air of 
Attica; and with the sickness of our hearts the 
sickness of our bodies grew, until half the men lay 
groaning. 

The enemy had learned of all our plans, — there 
are traitors everywhere and always, and they, too, 
had their messages. But a little while before they 
would have been too happy to see our sterns sink 
down the offing; now they must see them sunk in 
the bay. The long stress of the siege, with its 
ever renewing perils, had raised their resentment to 
fury; and when they perceived that our thoughts 
were of retreat, theirs leaped to annihilation. No 
corn-ships passed them now. Soon they sailed to 
the harbour mouth with all their force, and linked 
the fronting forts with a chain of barges. 

Then a cry went up. There was no more talk of 
the moon — even by Nicias. We rushed to our 
ships. But Meletus stood on the shore with folded 
arms; he would not budge. 

“ This is not the way of it,” he said to Nicias, 
who came in person to urge him, well knowing 
his value. “ It may be, my — Nicias, I would say — 
it may be I have a better thought of you than once ; 
and you may see I am heeding that about the flagon 


G O R G O 


336 

and ill words. But think you, old lad — Nicias, I 
would say, but the tongue kinks on it — think you 
yon bar of the gut will not lie there to-morrow, that 
you rush upon it thus, without order or preparation ? 
I tell you, we are in no plight.” 

He prevailed. Nicias glanced at the galleys : many 
were beakless ; scarce one had full oars. The stam- 
pede was checked ; that day and the next were spent 
in making ready. We repaired the gaping wounds, 
cut new oars from any timber, and finally set iron 
grapnels on the prows. 

“ They will have it a land fight on water,” grum- 
bled Meletus. “ They have given me fifty Acarna- 
nian slingers for my deck, to whack each other’s 
heads with swung stones. They will swaggle at 
every pull of the oars, — if so chance they sicken 
not, which may the god avert! I shall be sunk to 
the lower ports, with water swilling in at every 
lurch; yet I have a thought to turn those animals 
to some utility.” 

“ The grapples may help,” I said. 

“ The tongs? They will catch no fish, lad. That 
Corinthian cobbler has seen them, and is shoeing 
his toes with hard hides ; those claws of old Nicias 
will but scratch on cowskin. ’Twill be a queer man- 
ner of fight, lad; the gods in heaven will laugh.” 

Perhaps there was laughing on Olympus; there 
was none among men. We climbed to our places 
with tears and prayers. Demosthenes and Menander 
were to lead, but Nicias stood by the ladders and 
exhorted us, each one. Our gods, our native city, 


G O R G O 


337 

mothers, children, wives — there was nothing he did 
not say ; and as we drew off, heavy with the burden 
on our decks, he still called after us. All Syracuse 
was gathered on the sea-walls, gazing down upon 
the bay, and all our army, sick or well, stretched 
along the shore. Their faces were strained and 
white; their bodies swayed to the swing of our 
oars; they cheered us with shaking voices. 

I was not on the ship of Meletus, and presently 
lost sight of him; but I noted that he had a false 
beak set under his ram, projecting by at least a 
cubit, close to the water. He seemed to avoid en- 
counter, slipping in and out like an eel, and soon 
vanished in the press. For the enemy met us in 
mid-harbour. I had been assigned to Demosthenes, 
and stood by the bow in full panoply. We, too, 
avoided encounter as best we could, and made for 
the chain of boats. We reached it; we beat upon 
the barges, some of which we foundered, but the 
chain bore them up. And now the hostile galleys 
closed in on every side: their horns were grinding 
in our ribs ; missiles fell everywhere ; no voice could 
be heard a ship-length, for all the tumult of battle 
was blended in a roar that stunned the ear and be- 
wildered the heart. Our grapples slipped, but it 
scarcely mattered ; two hundred ships lay crushed 
together like a disordered raft. Yet scores of little 
boats from the docks dashed through every opening, 
breaking our blades with axes or shooting in at the 
ports; and it was against these that Golas proved 
of most service, though he also swept the decks of 


G O R G O 


338 

triremes with arrows that fell bloodstained on the 
further side, — for he shot at close quarters. Gang- 
ways crashed, bridging ship with ship; and on these 
the charging hoplites met and strove, until the heave 
of the sea flung down both bridge and men, and the 
gleam of sinking brass filled the waters. Twice I 
sprang back barely in time ; darts hung in my shield ; 
my sight was dull with blood and sweat and buffets, 
my thoughts were mere turmoil. 

Then a great wail came from the shore. The 
press behind us loosened ; we, too, were borne back ; 
the remnant of our fleet was in flight. We ran with 
the rest; but the blunted beaks in chase were hard 
on our sterns as we leaped to land, leaving the 
stranded galley where it lay. The howl of triumph 
from the ships and walls of Syracuse drowned the 
moan of the camp. 


XXIX. 


Slave and Poet 

N IGHT had fallen : shouts and drunken songs 
echoed across the bay; the city was mad 
with wine and triumph, and the air above it 
rosy with the glow of torches. In the camp all was 
dark, and its sounds were in another note: the 
groans of the wounded and the sick, the low curse 
of despair, and prayers that breathed as little hope. 
The generals sat in dismal council. 

“ We have still some sixty ships,” said Nicias, 
slowly, “ and the enemy, I think, have hardly so 
many fit for use. Let us strike again at sunrise; 
there is nothing else.” 

Demosthenes and all the rest assented. They 
called Meletus. 

“ It might be, old lads,” he said, cheerfully. 
“ They are lacking an adequate pilot now, and we, 
mind you, have no such deficiency. But the men 
will not board, neither mine nor any. I will print 
your wish on their backs with a tiller-stick if such 
is your advisement, but nothing will come of it save 
a strain on the wood and a manner of pain to the 
ears of old Nicias there.” And this they soon 
found to be the truth. 


339 


G O R G O 


340 

“We must flee by land, then,” said Demosthenes. 
“We may still win to Catana by a circuit through 
the hills.” 

“ Not to-night,” exclaimed Nicias. “ It is use- 
less to start to-night. We are ill equipped and the 
ways are beset; I have a sure message.” 

The uproar rising from behind the city walls did 
not suggest it ; but he was insistent. We lingered 
the whole day following. And while we waited, — 

“ It pinched my heart, lad, too,” said Meletus, 
“ but I did it.” 

“ Did what ? ” I asked, gloomily. 

“ Sunk him — trireme and all. It is a bitter 
loss to the craft — the more that he was of the 
enemy, who lack — but I needs must.” 

I looked up with a show of interest. 

“ I forgive him, lad — everything. He met me 
fairly in the upshot of it, and in some reasonable 
space of water. But I made the less of that; there 
would be no catching him behind or beside, and I 
knew it well. He ever turned on me, like that snake 
of Egypt who sits in a coil of his own cordage, as 
it were, and swings his reared head in the manner 
of a mast. So I ran straight at him ; for I thought, 
4 He is hard above with his horns and bracements, 
but below the lap of the swell it is likely he has made 
no provision, for his art is mere Corinthian when 
all is told/ You marked, perhaps, the rig I had 
set for him. Those slingers I had massed in the 
waist, with their sling-stones in ballast, and at the 
word I ran them forward, so that we dipped with 


G O R G O 


34i 

the strike of the beak. They went with no judg- 
ment, lad, and near foundered us; we had in a 
swashing cargo of water, but hit where ’twas soft. 
There is nothing more of it, lad; yet Meletus 
would give a full sack, so he had it, to see that 
Ariston dry again and warm with wine. ’Twill be 
but clumsy fighting now, — if ever we reach the 
good brine.” And with that thought even Meletus 
sighed heavily. 

The ways were indeed beset when we started on 
the third morning. Such of the sick as were not 
quite helpless trailed after us ; the rest we left 
there, wailing, crying to every god. That almost 
burst our hearts — but how did it matter ? They 
would only die the sooner, and by an easier course 
of death than most of us. 

I was one of the last to go; and as I stumbled 
over a prostrate body it half rose and clasped my 
legs, while a weak voice whispered my name, 
“ Theramenes ! ” I looked down ; it was my school- 
mate, Myron. “Save me,” he moaned, — “ do not 
leave me to die here, Menion.” 

I commanded Golas to take him up. The slave 
bore him until we had crossed the river, then set 
him down, puffing: “ Ookook — carry master — 
carry Gorka — not carry this.” 

I myself could scarcely carry my panoply; we 
had eaten no breakfast. And we could not pause; 
the Syracusan cavalry was close upon us. We ran 
on with what strength we had, through a straggle of 
crawling cripples whose strength was ever less; 


I did not pause when I heard a cry — there were 
many cries. 

I shall not — cannot — tell the story of that 
dreadful march. It seems to me now but a night- 
mare, eight days long; I cannot even remember 
it clearly. That time is but a blur of hunger, weari- 
ness, weakness, heat, and thirst; of hostile spears, 
cries, wounds, and hopeless terror, such as never 
comes except in dreams and when the sick soul 
reels toward madness. If the road led up a hill, 
there was the enemy; if we entered a wood the 
place became a labyrinth, with a Minotaur at the 
end of every path; if we crossed a plain, horse 
danced amid wavering dust-clouds on front and 
flank and rear; at night, if any slept, he still was 
marching; none even dreamed of home. Yet 
through this black despair a voice kept crying in 
my heart, — “ Not here, but at Athens ; not now, but 
after Gorgo, won and wed.” And this alone bore 
me up. 

We had left the camp with forty thousand men; 
we still numbered some thousands. Of the fate of 
Demosthenes we knew nothing; he had fallen be- 
hind with all his host. Our way was lost; we were 
drifting southward with little plan or aim, not 
where we would but as we might. At last we halted 
on the high, steep bank of a stream, and here Gylip- 
pus overtook us. He demanded instant surrender; 
Demosthenes, he said, had already yielded. 

But this Nicias could not believe; he no longer 
gave credit to any messages. And we — we be- 


G O R G O 


343 

lieved anything ill, but cared not ; our thoughts were 
all on the water that boiled in the channel below, for 
we were crazed with thirst. Down the slope we 
poured, while the enemy’s line of lances urged from 
the rear. We plunged our faces in the turbid eddies 
like trampling beasts, filling our gullets with mud 
and slime, and soon with a redder flow; for the 
ravine was quickly filled from brink to brink, and 
those above were spitted by hundreds on the pikes 
that bristled from beneath. Some were crushed, 
some drowned, deep under the press; many more 
the torrent swept away, to be shot like fishes in the 
water by the archers who lined the shore. Spears 
rained on our struggling mass, and these, striking 
downward, impaled us by twos and threes. I wonder 
that any could breathe that air, so full of ghosts ; in 
no battle had so many died. 

Then Nicias cast down his shield before Gylippus. 
“ Deal with me as you will,” he said, “ but stop this 
slaughter. Yet was Nicias honoured in Sparta once, 
and esteemed her friend.” 

Gylippus looked on him with eyes that triumphed 
not unkindly. “ I would save if I might the man 
who was once a friend of Sparta; but I think it 
not easy. They will wish to slay, and they love 
me little. Yet should a better wit prevail, surely 
the ransom of Nicias will be worthy of his name 
and wealth ? ” 

“ Any ransom, if ever Nicias should see his own. 
But end this killing.” 

The trumpet sounded; the storm of missiles 


G O R G O 


344 

ceased to beat upon our unresisting flesh. They 
dragged the living from among the dead; they 
shackled us two by two, and drove us captive. 
Some mistakes they made; the wounded Imbrian 
with whom I was linked soon fell, but they cut him 
loose and left him in the dust ; the dogs from every 
village followed us. We were brought to the city in 
one long march, — so small was the distance we 
had covered in all our wanderings; yet the night 
was upon us long before we reached the gates, and 
the moon, now crescent, ploughed the cloud-foam 
like a merchant bark with lifted peaks, giving light 
that was wind-tossed and shadow-broken. 

We were near the bridge of Anapus, clanking 
along the Helorine way. We had been much beset 
since night-fall by a sort of brigands ; half Syracuse, 
it seemed, was out on a slave-hunt. Our guards 
heeded it little; they were few along the flanks, 
though a great force marched behind, and none was 
close when I felt myself suddenly snatched from the 
line and dragged away into the darkness amid the 
thickets that edged the stream. I did not resist ; if 
I had become a slave, what matter whom I served? 
My captors were masked, but the hair of one showed 
white, and something in his figure seemed familiar. 
They threw me into a boat, ran softly down the 
river, crossed the bay, and entered by the port. 
The water-front and the broader streets were ablaze 
with riot, but they led me through devious lanes 
to a house in a rather secluded quarter. Here they 
entered; they used me kindly enough, offering 


G O R G O 


345 

food and drink, after which they thrust me into an 
empty store-room, where I slept like an ox on the 
pallet of a slave. At last some one shook me 
by the shoulder ; I roused dully and sat up. 

“ Is it, then, already morning?” I asked. For 
the place was windowless and dark. 

“ It is broad day, — but not as I conjecture you 
conjecture; for my conjecture is that you conjecture 
wrongly.” And he smacked his lips on the phrase. 
“ It is the morning of the second day ; two nights 
and one full day has the child of mischance drowned 
from his life in the deep oblivion of the shadow- 
sweet waters of gently flowing Lethe.” Again he 
smacked his lips with the relish of it. Somewhere 
I had heard that voice before : the accent was almost 
Attic, though he chanted this last with the swaying 
cadence of a rhapsodist. “Yet I blame you not 
at all, for you were spent utterly, and the soul of 
woe lay drunken under the skinny thatch of its 
bone-propped tenement. It is a notable incident, 
and I shall utilise it for a play. Alcinous shall 
speak these words to Odysseus when I have set 
them in proper metres and fittingly led up to it. 
I must have a note of them while the melody lingers. 
Can you write, boy ? ” 

“ As a soldier may ; but mainly with the spear- 
point in red characters on untanned hides, — and 
most of my books, I think, are burned.” 

“ Now that is notable — a notable answer. It 
shall be spoken by Odysseus to Alcinous at sight 
of a parchment. What it lacks in the grace of the 


G O R G O 


34 6 

finishing touch of art I shall add; it will doubtless 
come with the trip of the metre. You will be of 
service to me, boy. Perhaps you are not wont to 
be called boy , but you are aware it is the customary 
term for one speaking thus to his slave.” 

Boy! I had indeed been called so — but with 
what a difference ! 

“ Come forth, boy. I would scan your face. I 
have hope you are much above your station.” 

I stood in the light — before my master. I 
blenched — as I have rarely blenched at any sight. 
For this master — it was our Syracusan slave of 
long ago ! and I — the slave of a slave ! He sur- 
veyed me with evident satisfaction, and quite with- 
out recognition as I quickly perceived. 

“Yes, you are truly of Athens; it is evidenced 
by tongue and feature alike. Of good blood, I 
would judge; I have seen something of your better 
families. And that conceit of yours about the spear 
— it was worthy of your own Euripides, only lack- 
ing the polish of a more perfect art. I shall put 
you to the higher uses, Glyphon. For I shall call 
you Glyphon, boy.” 

“ Call me what you will.” At the least I was 
glad he had not chosen to call me some such thing 
as Manes. 

“ That too is good. ‘ Call me what you will ’ — 
it is no such notable conceit as the other, but it has 
the true ring of a tragic answer. You shall guide 
me in the proper Attic phrasing; this outlandish 
gabble of our Syracusan streets harms the delicate 


G O R G O 


347 

taste in phrasing. Yet I myself have been in Athens, 
Glyphon ; you may easily know it by my speech. 
I have taught in that city; I have been somewhat 
of a sophist in my rawer time, and my name is not 
wholly unknown there.” 

The liar! yet all he had said was after a fashion 
true. 

“ That name, however, you may not readily 
recall,” he continued, “ as being but a hurtler of the 
spear, though seemingly of good understanding. 
Philolerus I am called; it is needful that my slave 
should be apprised of it. You will speak of me 
always — especially when you go to buy papyrus 
at the book mart — as Philolerus the poet, whom 
you serve as scribe; that incidental matter of the 
aid in phrasing you need not mention. For under- 
stand, I am now a rising poet of the tragedy; my 
‘ Vengeance of Cronus ’ would have been exhibited 
but for jealousy. I had in it speeches above two 
hundred lines in length, richly embroidered with 
flowers of sentiment plucked from the gardens of 
Theognis. For I flit from blossom to blossom, and 
gather honey like the wandering bee.” 

His familiarity with the tiresome maxim-maker 
I only too well remembered. But this bee, I hoped, 
would prove stingless; for though I might easily 
crush such an insect with one blow, I could not 
escape the whole Syracusan hive. What followed 
was less reassuring. 

“ When I am composing a play,” he said, with a 
smirk of infinite vanity, “ I ever enact the leading 


G O R G O 


348 

part in my mind; I become, as it were, that I por- 
tray. Of late I was Cronus himself, and you might 
well have fared ill with me. ‘ Might well have 
fared ill’ — is it not a neat and artful phrasing*? 
But I am now writing a play of which Odysseus is 
the hero, and you will find me courteous but very 
cunning. Yet should I chance to strike you, remem- 
ber, I am but smiting Thersites. It is quite likely 
I shall strike you at times ; there is a sort of frenzy 
in the act of poetastic composition/’ 

A frenzy in devising frigid quibbles and appro- 
priating proverbs from Theognis ! I almost laughed ; 
yet if indeed he should lift that puffy hand against 
me, it would be no laughing matter. But the pru- 
dence of Odysseus prevailed ; he harangued unceas- 
ingly, like the bullying schoolmaster he was, but 
never struck. Perhaps he read a warning in my 
eye that I too had my moments of frenzy : he was 
ever a coward. 

I shall not detail those days of my extraordinary 
servitude: the humiliation is too great. For this 
I had come to Syracuse! Yet I laughed each night 
as I lay on my pallet at the sheer absurdity of this 
fling of fate; but for that, I believe, I should have 
driven the stylus through my heart and ended it. 
My main employment was to write from dictation, 
sitting hour by hour with a heavy tablet on my knee, 
rubbing the wax unceasingly to make erasures, as 
he revised each silly sentence to a more studied bad- 
ness. Then would come the copying of this 
wretched stuff upon the papyrus, in the which I tried 


G O R G O 


349 

his patience greatly, for I was but clumsy with the 
reeds and he could ill afford to waste the sheets. 
Well, it could not last forever, and the crisis came 
thus. 

He often took me with him when he walked, — 
still with the tablets, lest any precious quirk of 
speech escape the wax. One day he led me past the 
quarries — by design, I think — the deep sinks and 
caverns in the native rock where the remnant of 
our captive army lay entombed. For a tomb it 
seemed, — at least, they had no other, and there 
the dead of weeks lay heaped among the living; the 
stench as I approached the brink was horrible. Only 
the soul could escape from such a dungeon; and 
their souls were flitting fast. Their fever-stricken 
bodies, such as had life, sweltered under the noon- 
day sun and chilled in the night-frosts; the air 
they breathed was corruption; few would breathe 
it long. Though a scanty portion of corn and 
scantier water-sacks were from time to time let 
down to them, it seemed the last malice of cruelty 
to feed their misery. No charnel-pit was ever like 
this place. 

“ So deal the gods with those who thought to 
deal thus with others,” said the Syracusan, grandly. 
“ So rots the lust of conquest. Behold from what 
I have saved you, boy.” 

May the gods forgive me if I felt a sort of grati- 
tude! 

“ In the hour of pride the avengers set their snare. 
Write it down, boy. Their bait is the deadly delu- 


350 


G O R G O 


sion of arrogance. We are meshed in the web we 
have woven of the threads of folly.” 

A herald stood on the opposite verge of the 
chasm. “ Hear, all ye accursed ! ” he proclaimed ; 
and some of the dying wretches raised their heads. 
“ Hear the magnanimous edict of the sovereign 
people of Syracuse, in behalf of the Spartan Gylip- 
pus, who came within their walls in the hour of de- 
spondency, and though little aid was needed wrought 
what he might to fling you where you lie. And he 
shall have his reward, for the people of Syracuse are 
not ungenerous. The lives of Nicias and others in 
chief command they could not justly grant; and 
these are long since dead. But this they bestow : 
ten captives of rank and good estate from Athens, 
to be his for ransom or death. Give ear, and if 
any thus elect lie in the den below, let them crawl 
to the place of the rope.” 

He began the reciting of names ; mine was third 
on the list. I sprang forward. 

“ I am he; I am Hagnon’s son,” I cried. 

“ It cannot be — not the son of that Hagnon ! ” 
yelled my master. 

The officer eyed him coldly. “ There has been 
some thieving here, old fellow; no native Athenian 
has yet been sold. But what proof have you ? ” he 
asked me. “ We know well that a slave will say 
anything.” 

“ Yes, he lies ; he is lying ; they all are liars. Rob 
me not of my slave. I am a poet, harmless and 
poor.” 


G O R G O 


351 

“ I see no brand-mark/’ said the officer, lifting the 
hair from my brow. For I had run to him. 

“ I was kind. It was an error, but I did not 
brand,” persisted my kidnapper. 

“ Fool,” said the other, “ it was not yours to do 
branding.” 

“ Take me before Gylippus,” I besought him. “ I 
will bear any scrutiny. Surely some among you 
have seen me in fight, with Go-las, my slave.” 

“The devil archer? Yes, that beast was ever 
with Hagnon’s son; it is common report. Bring 
him before the examiners to-morrow at early 
market; and mind that you tell a straight story, 
poet.” The man would listen to no more, but 
turned to those who moaned at the foot of the rope. 
“ Haul up him who claims to be the son of Meton,” 
he commanded his servants. 

My frightened master led me back to the house, 
bewailing himself with every step. “ Why did you 
not tell me? I have used you well; I have been 
kind. Why did I not think to brand? The son 
of that terrible Hagnon! It is heaven’s justice. 
Yet I cannot keep him. He will surely betray; 
already he has brought me into peril. My slave! 
Not mine by mechanical process of purchase, but 
the god had long willed me this, and I but took my 
own. I cannot lose my slave. And it is Hagnon’s 
son, — that little viper’s spawn who would have 
struck me with a knife. He should be scourged for 
that — scourged. The gods be merciful ! I know 
not whether they send me this for a curse or a 


G O R G O 


352 

blessing. Hagnon’s son! it is most just. Yet I 
cannot keep him even though they should believe 
me. I have lived days of peril, and knew not. I 
have warmed that snake in my bosom when I might 
have had vengeance. The gods have blessed me with 
a slave; and he goes from me — unlashed. You 
have robbed me, boy. I am a poet, and poor; I 
cannot endure this loss. But I am now Odysseus : 
I will be swift and crafty.” 

He locked me fast in my chamber; but I heeded 
him so little that I slept, and my dreams were of 
Gorgo. I awoke with a strangling gripe about my 
throat, and just beyond the door, — 

“ It shall be three minas,” said a voice, “ and even 
so it is but to throw away; it is a loss. Yes, it shall 
be three minas, because it is the noble Syracusan, 
who is poor and wishes the silver; but it is loss. 
They are so many now, and for the slave of Syra- 
cuse there is little market. If he be not quite sound 
it shall be less; and you have yourself said the 
slave is not submissive. Yes, he shall have the 
brand, but it is risk. Oh, yes! it is best to brand, 
— but at sea, where they hear not the cry. Bind 
him quickly, Pardocas, and smother well the face.” 

I was wound with rope from neck to heel, my 
head muffled in a leathern sack; and so they bore 
me through the midnight streets. 


XXX. 


The Brand of the Beast 

I LAY in the gloom of the hold and listened to 
the crashing of the waves; I felt the throb of 
my fetters with each pulse of the oars, until 
every stroke was like the falling of a lash. My 
heart was sick with dread; I knew neither my port 
nor my doom : yet at last the stark weariness of 
this bondage proved worst of all, and the torture of 
the hours grew insupportable. Then it is that men 
writhe in their irons and beat their clashing limbs 
against the planks, and cry to the heavens they can- 
not see for shipwreck, though they sink in chains! 
I too — I raved with the rest ; for the hold was full 
of this agony. I suppose I had long been frantic : 
all sense of day or night was lost ; in that darkness 
and delirium I did not even note what lay beside 
me. At last the dim form rolled over and spoke. 

“ I doubt not we are headed for Styx as you say, 
lad. But by the three throats of him who will bay 
at our coming, strive to hold more steady on the 
keel. My wrist is near broke with your comfortless 
pitchings; and mind you, the use of the wrist is 
necessary to a pilot, even at the breach of Styx.” 

353 


G O R G O 


354 

“ Gods ! ” I groaned. “ Is it you ? Oh, the gods ! 
it is the branding; he will brand us, Meletus, full 
on the brow. And then he will sell us to the 
Persian.” 

“ I would think it likely, lad ; such, at least, is 
the usual manner of it. Yet mark you, there is 
ever a straight course open down to Styx; they 
cannot close it, lad. But by the good god of the 
flagon, I am glad you are by me. Hold fast to 
Meletus, lad, and he will get you across. I would 
shame to think that a pilot of any experience could 
not contrive the passage of a channel like yonder 
Styx, even though we should come there lacking the 
obol. I will rig an acation of such wreckage as may 
lie there; and if yon Charon, whose craft, I surmise, 
is not of the newest, should attempt to hinder, I will 
practise upon that old god a sequel of sudden de- 
vices from the navy of Athens.” 

With this he made me laugh in spite of all. 
“ How came you here? ” I asked. 

“ Well, lad, Meletus but fared like the rest. 
I was taken in one of their hovels rummaging 
among the cargo; for as you might know, the thirst 
I was under was something quelling. It was a sort 
of admiral of goats that got me; they set me to 
the herding of goats, lad — me, Meletus. I lost 
those two-pronged beasts quite hastily, the whole 
convoy of them, for there was a manner of other 
beasts about; and then it behooved me, mind you, 
to lose myself with a sort of hastiness, too. And for 
where would I steer but the sea, lad ? It was a 


G O R G O 


355 


difficult navigation, but I made over a heavy ground- 
swell to the beach, having with me a flagon obtained 
by violent entreaty of a country sort of a fellow on 
the way. May the fire-fork split me if I can tell 
more o i it ; but here I remembered myself and noted 
that you were by me, which I presently knew by the 
dig of your anchor flukes when they tossed on the 
cat-heads.” 

It may have been the next day — I cannot be 
sure; but we were far out on the sea. They led 
us up to the deck by fours, loosing the shackles that 
held our legs to the stanchions, but leaving our 
arms bound with cords. In the middle of the deck 
glowed a brazier, and in it lay branding-irons; a 
slave was fanning the coals, while the grim Nubian, 
stripped almost naked, stood ready. The Syrian, 
too, was there, — as shrunk and sallow as a shriv- 
elled date which has hung on the tree until nothing 
is left but skin and pith. His eyes ran over us with 
a searching appraisement, but when they rested on 
me — he sprang back so suddenly that his gown 
swept the fire. 

“ Bel ! It is Hagnon’s son. It is he that took 
from me my archer, and smiled in the Syrian’s face 
and threatened him with arrows.” And he spoke 
not another word until he had made certain that 
Golas was nowhere near. Then, — “ Just is Bel, 
and true is his promise: I will proclaim his kind- 
ness. For this has the Syrian prayed and made 
offerings of captives. Just is Bel, and liberal to 
the wish of him that worships.” 


G O R G O 


356 

I leaped at a hope. “ Syrian, you know well my 
estate. Redeem me and one other; have your will 
of the rest. I — my father will pay any ransom.” 

“ If he will ransom after the brand it is well. 
It is not in all cases that we ransom; it is not all 
of silver. Bel is gracious ; I will not cast away the 
grace of Bel. I will brand; I will have my wish 
that Bel has granted me for prayers and gifts : we 
will then have speech of the ransom.” 

“ I will never live branded.” 

“ In the fetters there will be no choice. The 
Syrian will heed the counsels of the sophist — and 
may Bel grant me that one also. I will not kill; 
I will devise pleasures; I will greatly honour Bel. 
But at the last, when Tissaphernas has paid the 
golden darics, the Syriafi cares not. Yet the mer- 
chant will be kind, as Bel is kind. This he will grant 
to the noble Athenian, whose father would pay much 
ransom, — he shall be last.” 

He spoke sibilant words in some strange tongue. 
The man beside me was seized and flung down ; the 
Nubian stooped, the sun-white metal hissed; the 
shrieking victim sat erect, with the yellow fume 
still wreathing on his brow. They were laying hold 
of Meletus, 

“ Fires of the roasting-place under Phlegethon ! ” 
he howled, with a wrench so furious that no cords 
could withstand it. “It is a horse! me branded 
with a horse! a horse on the brow of Meletus!” 

For an instant they stood confounded. That 
served : he snatched the scintillating iron from Par- 


G O R G O 


357 


docas, swayed it in their faces, then turning burnt 
the ropes that bound me till they snapped and my 
arms flew free. They were rushing upon us, but he 
beat them back with his unapproachable weapon, 
and as they gave before him bounded upon the 
Syrian. I had caught up a riveting hammer and 
swung it with all my strength on the skull of 
Pardocas, while the red die sunk to the bone in the 
brow of his master, and its sputter merged in a 
yell that I trust was sweet to the ears of Moloch. 
Meletus sprang back with a vicious flirt of the 
brand at the nearest, kicking over the brazier as 
he passed. 

“ It will give them a manner of employment,” he 
observed, “ and since we are now for Phlegethon we 
may as well go blazing, in my view of it.” 

We fled to the stem : they pressed after us along 
the narrowing lift of the deck, but none came within 
stroke. They were slaves, who ever prefer the 
chances of the lash to the brunt of iron in the hands 
of freemen. One, indeed, brought a bow and let 
fly an arrow which crashed against the fan behind 
us; but the planks amidship were already flaming, 
and they soon drew off to fight the fire. The Nubian 
had not arisen ; the Syrian, half-blinded, raged like 
all the furies, but to no purpose. The great sail 
flashed up and was gone. 

“ If any ship is within view that will signal it,” 
I said. 

“ I descried three bearing toward us from the 
north,” Meletus answered, “ before the smoke came 


G O R G O 


358 


in my eyes.” He swung the sweeps so that the 
flames drifted forward. “ War-ships, mind you. 
But they will scarcely reach us. I had no thought 
that these cattle would let the coals I spilled eat 
up the ship.” 

The shrieks from below grew terrible. “ Gods! ” 
I cried. “ They will burn in chains.” 

“ Only the gods can avert it, lad : it is a chance 
of the traffic. I see not that our case is better, save 
by freer choice of death, unless we can win to that 
trailer.” For a light boat ran behind at the end 
of a cable. 

But other eyes were upon it, and they too saw 
there all that was left of hope. When we strove to 
lay hold of the rope, the whole crew rushed upon 
us with the fierceness of desperation. I clubbed 
my hammer at short grasp ; Meletus bent his 
branding-iron with savage lashings. Three fell and 
another went over the rail ; the rest fell back, but not 
far, for the fire was close. 

“ They will rush again,” I cried. “ They will 
bear us down.” 

“ It is likely. They still stand ten against two, 
and the heat has warmed their bowels. Listen, 
dogs!” he shouted. “You shall have yon trailer 
under compact of truce. But cease your ramming 
and lay alongside gently. If you ram us again I cast 
loose.” 

We passed them the rope; they cared for nothing 
else. We were soon alone on the ship; even the 
hold was silent, and the black smoke that filled it 


G O R G O 


359 

oozed from the cracks by our feet. The planks 
were growing hot. 

“ Let us keep the deck while we may,” said the 
pilot. “It is a close venture, but I had a better 
thought than be trampled by swine.” 

The water wheezed in the coals beneath us; the 
ship swung round and round ; we were scorched by 
gushes of flame : but the plash of oars came on the 
wind. Meletus unlashed the sweeps and gave me 
one. 

“ Hold fast with the plunge,” he said. And we 
leaped. 

When we had our breath again we kicked hard 
and made out of the glare as fast as we were able. 
We were none too soon ; the ship went down behind 
us with a squelching roar and a gasp of steam. But 
the peril was less than it had seemed. The sea 
rolled low ; the foremost trireme was near ; we were 
soon on its deck. 

The men who crowded around us were Dorian; 
no Athenian ship was on these waters now. “ What 
officer commands?” I asked. 

“ Gylippus,” they answered. “ Who else ? 99 

“ Make it known to Gylippus that Hagnon’s son, 
Theramenes, would speak to him.” 

I stood before the sordid, able little captain who 
had ruined Athens. His sea-gown, soiled and 
rumpled, hung about him gracelessly ; his hair 
streamed long and ragged; his eye was harsh but 
not cruel. 

“ Well? ” he said. “ I think I know you, Hag- 


360 G O R G O 

non’s son. And that will save argument. Do you 
know me?” 

“ Listen, and you will discover. I was your cap- 
tive even in Syracuse, of the ten that generous people 
granted you out of thousands.” 

“ It is thus far true; and that old Syracusan fool 
who was scourged for it made away with you. It 
may be there was a substitute; but again you are 
mine.” 

“ Yours, Gylippus, and gladly, if a captive to 
any. Now mark if I know you. My father, Hag- 
non, has gold. The Spartan has no use for that, — 
but it glitters.” 

“ It glitters,” he said. And his eyes glittered, 
too. 

“ For myself and one other, who was drawn from 
the sea after me.” 

“ You mean the pilot. He was known by his 
oaths. It is he who sunk Ariston. He is danger- 
ous; he has been laid in chains. It cannot be less 
than two talents for the pilot.” 

“ Two talents and thirty minas more, if you set 
him on friendly land.” 

“ It shall be done. Him I can easily convey 
ashore; that he should escape will seem plausible. 
And when all is said, the name is but a guess. Many 
swear by Phlegethon and that fire-fork, though few 
so heartily.” 

“ And for myself?” 

“ For the son of Hagnon it will be five talents — 
no less. And you must go on to Sparta. You were 


G O R G O 


361 

proclaimed in Syracuse, and the name has been 
spoken openly. But fear nothing: I will see you 
freed. I shall have influence now; nor is it in the 
eyes O'f Gylippus only that gold has a glitter. Not 
all that is paid will come to Gylippus.” 

To this we swore with binding oaths; and so far 
as might be he was true to his word. Meletus was 
set on the beach in the dead of night, not far from 
Naupactus, where they told me Conon was in 
command. But I sailed on toward Sparta. 


XXXI. 


The Traitor 

“ TJ Y the glory of Apollo, it is Hagnonidas ! ” 

fj he cried. 

We had met in the streets of Sparta, face 
to face, — and there was no face in all Hellas that 
I less expected to see. He was dressed in a coarse 
gown, after the Spartan fashion; his silky beard 
was untrimmed, his hair fell to his shoulders; he 
even spoke with a Laconian accent. But the face — 
nothing could ever disguise its arrogant yet win- 
some beauty; no shame could dim the reckless, 
imperious light of those eyes. I knew him the 
traitor of traitors now ; yet I could not hate — I 
still loved him. 

“ Alcibiades ! ” 

“ Nay,” he laughed, “ I am Alcibiadas for the 
present. See you not that I am become a Spartan 
— and have a good hope that my line shall some- 
time reign amid the brood of Lycurgus. Is it not 
a noble ambition ? ” 

Gylippus scowled. “ If I were King Agis,” he 
said, “ your line should reign in black Cocytus.” 

“ Never blame him, Gylippus. It will be no fault 

362 


G O R G O 


363 

of Agis if I delay my passage thither ; but the good 
king is now harvesting in the fields of Attica. It 
was my own suggestion, dear brother in Lycurgus, 
like your own little pleasure trip to Syracuse." 

The Spartan, pale with rage, muttered an oath. 

“ Dear brother of the mess-table, I deem you 
most ungrateful ; I hear you have prospered. And 
how coarsely you swear! but an Athenian strain 
will presently amend these rude manners. I would 
gladly gratify your wish about Cocytus, which will 
doubtless be the brighter for my presence; but first 
I am pledged to sail in quite the opposite direction, 
eastward to Asia, — in the service of our common 
country, Gylippus. The wise Endius, who is my 
friend, has commanded it, and our Ephors, you 
know, must be obeyed." 

“ When the year is out that Endius will be no 
mightier than others," foamed the Spartan. 

“ True, Gylippus; you have uttered a Delphic 
truth. But then your recreant countryman, Alci- 
biadas, will be in Asia, where the rule of Lycurgus 
runs less strictly. And to answer truth with truth, 
I go not wholly in the interest of our revered 
Lycurgus. I would make it manifest to my loving 
kinsmen in Athens, who so justly voted me dead 
on lying charges, that my ghost still walks, and is 
dangerous. You cannot blame me, son of Hag- 
non," he cried, turning. “ You, too, have cause 
to hate them." 

“ I will not call the betrayer of Athens my 
friend," I answered. But the words came hard. 


G O R G O 


364 

“ They voted their own destruction,” he retorted, 
hotly. “ The gods are my witnesses, they forced 
me to it; nor can Athens ever be a fit dwelling- 
place for men while Demus rules and the dema- 
gogue is his minister. But call me what you 
choose,” he broke out, in a voice that echoed his 
mingled passions, “ I hate not Athens herself. And 
I will befriend my friend, though, like my ven- 
geance, it should cost new wars and wreck cities.” 

And with that he put his arms about me in spite 
of the Spartan, while a new hope rose in my soul. 

“ Who knows ? ” he continued. “ Did not our 
own Socrates, whose word is beyond Apollo’s, de- 
clare that I would make as well as unmake? I 
will yet return in triumph to a city saved from it- 
self. But tell me of him. When did you see him 
last? I am hungry for the gossip of the painted 
porch.” 

But I told him of other things — of Gorgo. We 
walked arm in arm through the village-like streets, 
while Gylippus followed sullenly. We made little 
account of Gylippus, whose influence, as I soon per- 
ceived, was less than he had boasted. The barracks 
were full of men who could execute; Alcibiades, 
who could plan, had the ear of the Ephors. And 
presently, crossing the wide square of the market, 
we stood in the judgment-hall before that dreaded 
five who were the true sovereigns of Sparta. Plain 
citizens they seemed, with hard, set faces, but the 
glances from beneath their shaggy eyebrows were 
keen enough. 


G O R G O 


365 

“ I bring Hagnon’s son, of a name once honoured 
in Sparta,” said Alcibiades, quite ignoring Gylippus, 
who fell back much cowed. My ransom was easily 
arranged, — three talents to the state. But this 
was the smallest part of what I meditated now. 

“ Your just claim shall be satisfied,” I assured 
them, “ and gratitude will be added. But I also 
have my claim: I demand my plighted bride.” I 
announced it with an assurance worthy of Alci- 
biades himself. 

“ What is this ? ” exclaimed Endius. 

“ He demands Gorgo, ward of the miserly Rhy- 
zon,” interposed my champion. “ They have long 
been betrothed; they were pledged in the days of 
the peace. I maintain his right. His father was 
long the proxenus of Sparta, and I claim for his 
son the right of intermarriage.” 

“ We have heard,” said Taurus, “ that she is 
pledged to Lysander, the son of Aristoclitus, a 
youth of promise.” 

“ Let her be summoned,” said Endius, a and 
Rhyzon.” 

“ Lysander also,” added Taurus. 

It was Gorgo who entered first, with downcast 
look and cheeks as pale as the gray of morning. 
But when she lifted her eyes — “ Boy ! boy ! ” she 
cried, “ you have come ; again you have come.” 
And the dawn tints glowed as of old. 

“ Boy ! ” exclaimed Taurus, gruffly. “ Is the 
young Athenian, then, your slave?” 


G O R G O 


366 

“ Ask him,” she began, defiantly. “ But no : I 
will not hear him called so even by himself.” 

“ Be not presuming, Ionian Gorgo,” said Endius, 
coldly. “ Is it true that you are plighted to this 
Athenian ? ” 

“ By all the oaths that ever maid was plighted 
by, this maid is plighted,” she said, softly. “ And 
he bears my ” — but here she stopped suddenly. 
“ O Ephor, surely you revere the gods.” 

“ An oath is a most sacred thing,” said Alcibi- 
ades, solemnly. I looked at him; at another time 
I might have laughed. 

“ An oath is binding on the maker of it, not on 
others,” broke in Taurus. “ It is ill to let a woman 
of her will ; but as being a Spartan born and prom- 
ised to another — ” 

“ She is no true Spartan,” said Endius, inter- 
rupting. 

“ It is false,” came a harsh roar from across the 
hall. “ May the hound devour the tongue that 
utters it.” 

“ Be silent,” said Endius. “ Rhyzon already has 
too much to answer for. The law of Lycurgus shall 
this day be vindicated.” 

“ Give the maid to her plighted choice,” pleaded 
Alcibiades. “ Old Lycurgus had a heart ; I will 
answer for him. Look in her eyes, Endius.” 

“ She is mine : I will wed her in spite of gods or 
Ephors,” I burst forth, unable to be prudent longer. 

“ So you shall ; but defy neither to-day,” whis- 
pered my advocate. 


G O R G O 


367 

“We will hear Lysander,” said Taurus; and 
my old enemy came forward with reluctant steps. 
At his side walked another, no taller than Gylippus, 
and limping slightly, but with shrewd, firm, rather 
noble features, over which played the easy smile of 
habit. Jt was Agesilaus, a prince of the house of 
Procles. The two were close friends, and were talk- 
ing together in low tones. Yet as they passed where 
I stood, “ Accept no clog,” I overheard. “ Strain 
neither law nor oath. Weigh not a woman against 
ambition.” 

“ Speak,” commanded Endius. “ Do you lay 
claim to this maid ? ” 

Lysander’s face was ashen, — all but the livid 
scar that streaked his brow. “ I claim her by her 
uncle’s promise,” he answered, in a lifeless voice. 
“ I claim her after twenty months. I will say no 
more.” 

“ I will sooner wed my grave, Lysander,” cried 
Gorgo. 

“ It is too much,” said Taurus. “ Lead no un- 
willing wife, Lysander. It is not the Spartan 
custom.” 

“ Listen,” said Alcibiades. “ I would not wed 
the goddess Aphrodite in this humour. And I 
speak not without knowledge. A maid will utter 
many idle words, but this is meant.” 

“ Ally the fortunes of Lysander to no alien 
blood.” The voice of Agesilaus rang sternly, and 
his smile was gone. “ He who would rise must 
heed the Spartan law. Say I not well, Endius ? ” 


G O R G O 


368 

“ Aye, by the Carneian god. She is Ionian or 
I know not what. Daughter of Brasidas she doubt- 
less is, but by no marriage that the state will sanc- 
tion.” 

“ Yes,” said Gorgo, proudly, “ I am of Ion. I 
was born where the violets bloom ; I will be no more 
a shame to my father’s house. I will go to my own ; 
or, if I may not, I will seek my father in that land 
where no Ephor can deny him his own daughter. 
I renounce your Sparta from this day.” 

“ It is enough. Her blood shall taint no Spartan 
family. An Ephor has spoken.” 

“ We confirm it,” assented the others. “ The 
word that is spoken is ours also. You shall not 
do yourself this injury, Lysander.” 

“ Choose,” said Agesilaus, “ between friendship 
and love. Not even Lysander may have both. 
Choose between passion and power. Is the blood of 
Lysander so pure that he would further mingle it ? ” 

“ I am chained and you hunt me with hounds,” 
cried Lysander, his face moist with the sweat of 
his struggle. “ May the laws of that dotard Ly- 
curgus be stricken with the spear-blight, and may 
you, Agesilaus, live to see it, for a cold and treach- 
erous friend. Yet my friend you still must be, 
and before the spear of Sparta trails in the dust I 
will so wield it that all Hellas shall cower. Like 
Achilles, it has come to me to choose joy or fame; 
and his choice is mine. I cast her from me.” 

“ And for the wisdom of that choice, we pardon 
the rashness of the word,” said Endius. 


G O R G O 369 

» 

“ But the walls that shelter her shall fall,” cried 
Ly sander, still raging. “ And this rosy flame that 
should have lighted my house shall be a consuming 
torch to yours, Athenian.” 

“ Nay,” I said. “ Let us settle our quarrel point 
to point. What need of other spears and many 
victims ? ” 

“ Not here,” said Endius. “ He shall not fight 
a captive under ransom.” Yet the Ephor looked 
upon me with approval. “ It was boldly spoken.” 

“ Truth,” said Lysander. “ He is worthy of my 
spear. To the son of Hagnon I surrender Gorgo : 
it is fortune’s forfeit; but I take all else.” 

“ Will you give my brother’s daughter to a for- 
eigner ? ” screamed Rhyzon. 

“Did we not enjoin you to silence?” shouted 
Taurus. 

“ Peace,” said Endius. All in due season. It 
is the fault of your own neglect, Rhyzon. They 
were plighted, it seems, in your own hall; and 
strange things, we have heard, were done there. 
They were pledged, we must think, with Rhyzon’s 
consent, for it was done, we learn, before his eyes. 
Dare you deny it ? ” 

But Rhyzon could only curse beneath his breath. 

“ They swore with binding oaths,” said the 
Spartan, judicially. “ It was but the act of children, 
yet they made the gods their witnesses; and Alci- 
biadas, who has rendered Sparta great services, 
demands the fulfilment. It shall now be done in 
proper form.” 


370 


G O R G O 


And there they plighted us, before witnesses, a 
formal contract of marriage, even to the naming of 
the dowry. 

“ You have robbed me of my ward,” stormed 
Rhyzon, helpless to restrain his anger. “ It is rank 
injustice, and beyond your right. Shall the Ephors 
break the law and suffer nothing?” 

“ Fool,” exclaimed Alcibiades, “ have you lived 
so long in Sparta and know not yet that the Ephors 
are the law ? ” 

“ We but confirm your own act,” said Endius. 
“We rob you not of your ward. But there is now 
another matter, Rhyzon. For this and many an- 
other violation of the Spartan law you go from 
Sparta, a banished man. An Ephor has spoken it.” 

“ The Ephors have decreed it,” chimed the 
others. “ He has long been a rank offender ; it has 
not escaped us.” 

“ Go, Rhyzon,” repeated Endius. “ Let not to- 
morrow’s sun see you in Sparta ; and tarry not for 
that unlawful hoard, unless you prize gold more 
than life. This Ionian whom you brought for the 
defilement of our noblest blood take with you. The 
secret of her birth has long been known. Death 
is your due, but the Ephors are merciful.” 

“ She is mine,” I cried, loudly. 

“Not yet. Betrothed to you she is, and none 
shall question it. But until she has attained the 
age of marriage no Spartan law can take her from 
her guardian.” 


G O R G O 


37i 

“ Then I will go with her. I will not be parted 
from her.” 

“ Athenian captive, when you are free go where 
you will. You are now held under ransom.” 

“ Let him go ; I will be his surety,” said Alci- 
biades. 

“ Such were not the terms,” said the Spartan. 
“ It is done, and may not be changed.” 

“ Gods of Olympus ! all men change,” he cried. 
“ I will not have it so.” 

“ Silence ! Presume not too far. An Ephor has 
spoken.” 

“ Alcibiadas,” said Agesilaus, “ if you are Spar- 
tan enough to share our councils, you must also 
be a Spartan to obey.” 

For a time not one of us could speak. At last, 
“ Hagnonidas, there is still a way,” said he who 
never would admit defeat. He laid his hands upon 
my shoulders and fixed his eyes upon my face. 
“ Renounce that rabble of Athens. They are my 
enemy and thine; they are doomed. Cast thy lot 
with me. There will then be no question of ransom ; 
for this even the laws of Sparta will relax. Again 
I ask you : for Gorgo’s sake — ” 

But all my soul surged up. I could not reason 
of this; it was not a thing of choice. “ Not even 
for Gorgo will I be a traitor to my country,” I 
cried. 

“ And that is well said, Theramnas,” she mur- 
mured, close beside me. “ Not for any oath — 


372 GORGO 

not even for Theramnas, would this Gorgo wed a 
traitor.” 

“ By god’s word spoken from the Delphic brass,” 
exclaimed Agesilaus; “ I think she is true Spartan.” 

“ It is her father’s strain, — but the law is still 
the same,” said Endius. “Yet we would not be 
harsh — within the Spartan law.” 

“ Thus, then, it shall be,” proclaimed Alcibiades. 
“ Rhyzon shall this night to Cythera, taking Gorgo. 
In three days I sail ; certain helpers of mine will 
bring them off in boats, and I will take both to 
Ionia. With me they will be safe, and the rest is 
easy.” 

“ I will go with the friend of Theramnas,” said 
Gorgo, simply. And Rhyzon, glad of any protector, 
made no protest. 

The eyes of Alcibiades gleamed. “ Look at me, 
Gorgo,” he demanded suddenly, planting himself 
before her. “ Am I not more fair than Hagnon’s 
son?” 

“ Oh, be silent,” she cried. “ You have been so 
kind: I do not wish to hate you.” Then to me: 
“ It is my turn after this day, Theramnas. Three 
times you have come to this Gorgo, and twice 
through peril. She will come to you now; for 
now she may, since all men know. Wait, Theram- 
nas, and kiss no other lips; for Gorgo will surely 
come to you.” 

And so her light passed from me. 


XXXII. 


The Arch-Conspirator 

A GAIN I was in Athens. To Gylippus, who 
had brought me to the border, I paid the 
full ransom of Meletus, though I knew noth- 
ing of his fate; but for the influence which had 
proved so weak in Sparta I would pay no price. 
He grumbled, but dared not detain me. I had good 
reason not to be lavish : my father’s fortune was 
much impaired; there was little silver anywhere. 

I stood again in Athens, — but it was not the 
city I had left. Its hope was gone; its docks were 
almost empty; its citizens scarcely served to man 
the walls : and this Alcibiades had wrought. A 
Spartan fortress frowned from a distant hill; the 
ravagers ranged all over Attica, and no field gave 
harvest: this also was his work. Of Gorgo no 
word had come: yet every day brought news of 
failing tribute and fresh seditions on the coast of 
Asia, — still at the traitor’s prompting. Under his 
potent influence even the gold of Persia was cast 
in the scale against us. 

But at that we roused. We stripped the very 
temples of their treasures; we borrowed from the 
373 


G O R G O 


37 4 

gods, and spent all on ships. We set on the benches 
any who could draw an oar — no questions were 
asked — and while our enemies waited for em- 
bassies, and the Spartans lagged on the hot trail 
of Alcibiades, we astonished the eyes of Greece 
with yet another mighty fleet sent out to save the 
empire of Athens. 

“ We’ll show them what Athenian beaks can do 
on open water,” said Thrasybulus, confidently. 
He was a trierarch now. “ We’ll teach them that 
the city wasn’t sunk in the harbour of Syracuse. 
They’re no true seamen, and sea-craft doesn’t come 
in one campaign ; they need a lesson. Hermes, but 
I wish Alcibiades were with us instead of against 
us! We would drive them off the sea in a month.” 

Thrasybulus sailed with the rest, but I remained, 
by my father’s command; he was so insistent that 
I could not refuse. 

“ Let the reckless democrat go ; the more the 
better. Your duty lies here, my son. The time 
is ripe; you shall see great things brought to pass, 
and you must share in the work. There is but 
one way that Athens can be saved. I have been 
reluctant, but Antiphon has convinced me.” 

A committee of public safety had been appointed 
with extraordinary powers, and my father was a 
leading member. His reputation had never stood 
higher, but to me he seemed much changed. He 
was continually quoting the words of this Anti- 
phon. 

“ Who, pray, is Antiphon ? ” I demanded. “ Is 


G O R G 


O 


375 

it not the rhetorician? I thought that you held 
him in low esteem, and now one would fancy he 
spoke from the fume of Apollo’s oracle.” 

“ He has been misjudged. He is the most won- 
derful man in Athens-, my son, and the most elo- 
quent, though he will not deign to go before the 
commons. Yet to such as lead them by the nose 
he supplies wit.” 

“ A miserable sophist! ” I exclaimed. “ A closet 
demagogue, who devises wickedness and lays the 
risk on others! There is none in all the city who 
so deserves the bitter cup.” 

Then my father’s anger flared. “ Have I in- 
deed such a son ! ” he cried. “ Since when have 
you grown too wise to bow to your father’s judg- 
ment? ” 

“ When I see the judgment,” I began, — but 
repented instantly. 

He strove to control himself. “ You speak like 
a child. You are still but a boy. I hold a high 
place in the state, and seek the good of Athens 
and my son’s advancement.” 

“ Seek it not through Antiphon.” 

“ I seek it where I must. Do you not see that we 
are in desperate straits? Whatever fools may dream, 
we cannot fight all Hellas mailed in Persian gold. 
Only Antiphon saw the way and dared to speak. 
He is a greater statesman than Pericles, and far 
more right-minded. He is no demagogue, but his 
word is law in all our secret councils. He rules the 
clubs ; do not make him your enemy.” 


G O R G O 


376 

“ Some new treason, then, is hatching.” 

“ Athens is traitor to herself. She must be saved 
against her will, if at all; but first our city must 
be purged of clamorous voices and the voting-urns. 
The novelties we seek are but the older fashion.” 

“ Yes; treason is older than Attica.” 

His face burned with wine and passion. “ Bab- 
ble not to thy father.” But he checked himself. 
“ Be not unfilial, son. Has not our own Sophocles 
written it truly ? — 

Walk, son, in every act behind thy father’s will. 

And says he not again ? — 

Obey in all things, small or great, and right or wrong. 

“ Then let us both obey the laws of our country, 
right or wrong.” 

“ The ancient laws, — but not the breath of 
ragged Demus. A usurper has no rights : Antiphon 
has made the matter plain to me. There is no 
treason in just vengeance. And is it not writ- 
ten? — 


Refuse not healing from the hand that struck the blow. 
And again, — 

Who, erring, makes amendment, foils the blighting curse. 

You should study the poets, my son, and com- 
mit to memory some passage every day. Your 


G O R G O 


111 

mother greatly loved the poets. But indeed, I sup- 
posed that you were friendly to Alcibiades.” 

“ Alcibiades ! ” I exclaimed, in amaze. “ What 
is in your thought ? ” 

He would tell me no more. “ Go to Antiphon,” 
he commanded. “ I dare not speak further even 
to you. Go to Antiphon : he will make it very 
lucid.” 

Not even for my father would I go to this man; 
but he sought me out. He sat down beside me 
and talked in low, strong tones. 

“ Theramenes,” he said, “ you think of me, per- 
haps, as a sophist, but I shall deal very frankly with 
you. I know all that you said to Andocides, and 
think the better of you for it. None the less, what 
he said was true: we have need of you, and you 
of us. You must go with your own, — the more 
now, because of Alcibiades, whom we know to be 
your friend. Do you suppose that we have put 
your father forward thus for his own sake? that 
our hearts are hungry for Hagnon’s wisdom ? You 
see what he has become.” 

“ I see that he has become Antiphon’s echo,” I 
said, bitterly. 

“ Mine and the moral poets’,” he retorted, with a 
faint sneer. “ He classes us together, as you may 
have observed. But you see the truth. I have such 
control of your ship that I can steer it against wind 
and tide, and any protests of yours will only serve 
to bring down anger and quotations. Already 
Hagnon has gone far. In short, he is quite in my 


G O R G O 


378 

power; and a son who cares for his father will not 
leave him to walk alone where the daggers bristle 
when his sight is dim. For there are daggers. In 
that, too, Andocides was right, though I fancy he 
spoke of it too crassly for a man of your type. 
I know that you are not afraid of pointed steel. 
But daggers there are, and they are likely to be 
used. Understand me: I myself care nothing for 
Hagnon.” 

What could I say? Yet, ‘‘Into what treason 
would you drag me?” I asked. 

He laughed. “ Would you have me confess to 
treason ? ” 

“ I would have you speak plain. My father is 
your hostage — for my silence, at least.” 

“ I will speak it plain enough. There is no sal- 
vation for Athens except by the recall of Alcibiades. 
Fools may fancy otherwise, but you have wit to 
see the truth. We have already had overtures.” 

“He will now betray Sparta also?” 

“ If it serves his purpose. Do you not know 
him ? But he has quarrelled with them. King Agis 
is his deadly enemy, and Endius is out of office. 
So much the better for us. He stands in high 
favour with Tissaphernes, and will ballast our fleet 
with Persian gold. Then we may dictate terms. 
It is poverty that destroys us, — and the folly of the 
mob.” 

“ But will the people consent to recall him — even 
for this?” 

“ He would not come if they did. He fears them ; 


G O R G O 


379 

some roaring voice might bray to them again of the 
mysteries. But to us he will come. ,, 

“ Can you trust his promises ? Can you or any 
others trust Alcibiades again ? ” 

“We can trust his interest and his wit to see it 
— we, or any others. You know him well : do 
you not trust him — with certain reservations ? ” 
I was silent. Had I not trusted him indeed? 
And almost without my knowledge another motive 
budded in my heart. 

“ Listen,” said Antiphon. “ The most dangerous 
voices are out of hearing on the fleet. Such as 
remain we will hush with daggers if need be. Your 
father’s committee will do our bidding. Old Demus 
is much cowed; we will frighten him further with 
lies and arguments, and perhaps with a show of 
force. He will then cast one more vote at our 
dictation, and march down from the Pnyx to as- 
cend no more. There will be no treason; Demus 
himself shall sanction our authority.” His lip 
curled. “ Four hundred, whose names are already 
listed, will then rule Athens; and you are to serve 
with the rank of general. Alcibiades asks it.” 

The whole black plot lay bare. I thought of my 
father. Yet, “ I cannot,” I groaned. I thought 
of Alcibiades ; I thought of Gorgo. And still, “ I 
cannot, Antiphon,” I repeated. 

“ What flaw do you find, young man ? ” 

" I will have no part in this cold-blooded scheme 
of murder.” 

“ There will be no coldness,” he laughed. “ Your 


G O R G O 


380 

old friend Critias, who leads the dagger-band, is 
hot enough. And when it comes to killing, Demus 
has done his share. Has the son of Hagnon no 
wrongs to avenge? At least you would not bar the 
dagger to a scoundrel informer like Teucrus, nor 
stand between justice and such a seducer of Athens 
as Hyperbolus ? ” 

“ No,” I said, slowly, “ they deserve the worst.” 

“ I respect your sentiments, though they are 
youthful. I had meant to offer you Pisander, 
though he has joined us; but I see it would not 
suit. You shall have your way; I will keep the 
killing within due bounds, — and that is my own 
better judgment. Much killing breeds bitterness 
and discontent. Now observe: you may share our 
councils and save many lives; but unless I gain 
the support of men like you, I must humour such 
as Critias. For carry it through now we must and 
will. What more ? ” 

“ Four hundred alone can never hold mastery 
in Athens. When Demus sees so few, his courage 
will revive.” 

“ What would you have ? Do you favour the 
rule of the rabble?” And his face darkened. 

“The rabble? Never!” Remembered wrongs 
and the whole tradition of my house swelled within 
me. “ But I would hold as citizens the sane and 
the brave — all who come with a panoply to fight 
in the phalanx for Athens. It is nothing more than 
justice; and so only can we stand.” 

“ How many? ” 


G O R G O 


381 

“ Three years ago I would have said ten thou- 
sand; but as it is to-day, five thousand. Without 
these we but build on blood-wet sand.” 

He frowned : again his lip curled. “ Well,” he 
said, at last, “ so be it. Five thousand citizens, 
and no more, — so they bear each a panoply and 
are loyal. But for this you must wait until we 
are fairly established.” 

“ Yet we may announce it even from the begin- 
ning. So we shall gain support.” 

“ You are right. It shall be announced — the 
names to be selected later.” He smiled. “ You 
make strict terms with us, son of Hagnon. You 
will ask an oath, I suppose. Well, you shall have 
it. But let me tell you frankly, — you owe this 
weight of influence chiefly to Alcibiades. Are you 
satisfied ? ” 

“ If I could wholly trust you,” I answered him, 
“ I should be more than satisfied. I should deem 
myself the greatest benefactor Athens ever knew.” 
And in spite of my doubts, my hope mounted high. 


XXXIII. 


A Message 

T HE views of Antiphon as to moderation in 
murder were not the same as mine. This 
was soon apparent; yet he did restrain the 
thirst for blood that was among us. Some harsh- 
ness was necessary — I could not deny it ; the long 
license of mob rule is not quelled by soft remon- 
strance. Still, argument also was used, — one ar- 
gument, for it was always the same : “ How else 
can the city be saved ? ” With this we met every 
burst of angry protest; and at last, when no an- 
swer was found, the people, leaderless and daunted, 
voted as we bade them. With tears and rage they 
voted it, but so they voted. 

We ruled in Athens : we, who had paid them 
tribute and been pelted with their stones! we, who 
had trembled before their informers, who had lain 
in their prisons, who had seen the life-blood of our 
kindred chilled with their hemlock! I do not de- 
fend what we did; but who can wonder that our 
mood was not lamblike? 

When our spirits were somewhat sated, “ Now,” 
I said, “ the Five Thousand ; you have had your 
killing.” 


382 


G O R G O 


383 

“ Not quite yet,” said Antiphon, smoothly. 
“ We must have more leisure to make a good 
choice; we must try them further.” 

So the killing went on; and I grieved to see 
that the crop of sycophants was little reduced, for 
the vilest of them joined us. All around me, “ The 
Spartans could do no worse,” I heard the people 
murmur. “ And who are these? and how many? ” 
As I passed the streets, “ Where is that Persian 
gold?” came from unseen lips. “We behold it 
not. And that Five Thousand? We see but four 
hundred.” 

Then it was that a message came from Alci- 
biades, hotly posted across the sea and with all 
secrecy : — 

To Theramenes, greeting: — 

It is an ill greeting. I have lost her, son of 
Hagnon , — and you zvill ever curse me. We were 
parted in the storm. She would not go upon my 
ship because of idle words, — but who can stay the 
trickle of the tongue when honey is set before it? 
By my father's soul, I swear it was less than jest ; 
yet she flamed upon me and turned away — and 
Hagnon’s son will curse me. I blame you not; it 
zvas ill done, yet who could have thought it? The 
thing chanced off Delos: she sleeps on seaweed, 
doubtless, or gathers pearls; it was a storm to sink 
the very isles. May Phersephatta be gentle to her 
soul, for I am grieved, — and I know that you will 
hate me. Yet take it not too hardly. They are but 


G O R G O 


384 

as the fish on our tables, which we taste hut cherish 
not ; and the sea is full of sweet hshes. Yet be- 
cause of her eyes you will hate me; I am more 
pained at this than at anything that has befallen. 
But this is not all, nor, I think, most important. 
I have brought you, I fear, into some peril; but I 
send you timely warning. Your Four Hundred are 
doomed: the army will none of it, and, if you will 
hear the truth, there is more of Athens here than 
yonder. There are firebrands among us, and the 
worst — nay, the best — is that young Thrasybulus 
who, I think, zoos your schoolfellow. Take heed, 
Theramenes: we are fairly crazed by the reports 
we hear — true or false, we believe them all. For 
here the wretched conspirators who sought to sub- 
vert our democracy are down, — dead, fled, or 
sworn anew with throat-cracking oaths. They de- 
clare that I did not wholly keep faith with them, 
Theramenes — but what could I do? Tissaphernes 
was obstinate. Anyhow, they rose but to fall, and 
you are like to fare no better; cut loose quickly, 
Theramenes. We have even meditated sailing 
against you, but from that our Alcibiades dissuaded 
us. For I am restored to the bosom of democracy 
now, Theramenes, and that torch of loyalty, your 
friend Thrasybulus, was the mover of my recall. 
He is really a youth of noble parts: we have chosen 
ourselves new generals, and he and I are colleagues. 
I still pay visits of state to Tissaphernes, but that is 
only a matter of form; the dull Persian cannot see 
that his interests are one with mine. But get out 


G O R G O 


385 

from among those cracked vessels of venom, The- 
ramenes, and come to us. We are now in the mood 
to win victories, and Hagnon’s son must be with 
us. I am full of woe for her of the violet dashes; 
but let not thy Gorgon turn thee to stone, Theram- 
enes. 

I sat like a stone indeed. As I read, all the cur- 
rents of my soul were changed. Gorgo was dead ! I 
did not hate Alcibiades: why should I hate him? 
I had no more cause to love or hate anything. 
Even his latest turn of treason I did not much 
reprove; I was growing used to treason. It might 
bring me peril, but what did it matter? What did 
anything matter, if Gorgo was dead? I would play 
the part assigned me: I would do my best to free 
my city from the tyranny I had helped to bring 
upon it. I realised now that it was for Gorgo most 
of all that I had done this thing — and she was 
dead. And I thought — with what bitterness — 
of Socrates! I had sought her by the path of 
broken oaths — how vainly ! And she herself — 
she would not wed a traitor! Perhaps it was well 
that she was dead. And with that thought the pas- 
sion of hate came back to me: I hated Antiphon 
and all his kind. Him I would punish; his work 
I would undo, if possible. Surviving that, I would 
rush through battle to my fate ; I would die a loyal 
death — for Athens and Gorgo. 

I had taken her pearls from the casket. “ She 
shall never again find me without her token,”. I 


G O R G O 


386 

had thought. But the casket had seemed too empty ; 
and despite our sunken estate I had filled it with 
jewels, that all might be ready against her coming. 
And now — I would cast them into the sea that 
she still might have them; and I hoped that even 
the terrible Persephone would not deny them to 
her. Of the Ephors, at least, she was free, and the 
gloomy gods of the underworld could scarcely be 
more grim, I thought. 

I sought out Antiphon, resolved to make one 
more trial of his good faith; that failing, to turn. 
I found him pale, though cool; he had his own 
messages. 

“ The army has gone against us,” he said, 
abruptly. “ I know it. Or have you come to tell 
me that Alcibiades has played us false? Blood of 
Dionysus ! I thought we had him fast ; but the peo- 
ple roll this way and that, like tossing water. They 
are fickle even in folly.” 

“ Name the Five Thousand : you have sworn it. 
Until they are named they are nothing, and we 
stand on emptiness.” 

“ Enough of that nonsense. Your trick of popu- 
larity will not serve. The phrase had a certain 
value, but is dead.” 

“ You are bent, then, on further killing? ” 

“ I would kill my own son for party ends ; he who 
heads a party must have no scruples. But, no : you 
were right in that ; we have had excesses in violence. 
It is like the hemlock : a little brings stillness ; too 
much is cast forth with retchings. You are known 


G O R G O 387 

in Sparta and have ties there,” he said to me 
suddenly. 

“ Do you mean — ” 

“ I mean that when Athens is Spartan ground 
we shall stand on substance. With Laconian pikes 
on yonder Acropolis we shall need no Five Thou- 
sand.” 

“ And this you call saving Athens ! ” 

“ Saving ourselves. Are you the fool of a word ? 
Learn a lesson of wit from Alcibiades ; shall he out- 
play us? Answer me: will you go?” 

“ Announcing what ? ” 

“ That the gates will open. That through us 
they may rule all — Athens and Hellas.” 

This, then, was the issue of my hope! By such 
a service I was to be remembered! Not yet. 

“ Come,” he said, “ your answer? Do this, and 
you share with the foremost; you shall outshine 
Alcibiades. But the first step toward our betrayal 
pitches you into the barathrum.” 

“ The day was when I valued my life,” I answered. 
“ But I must have breath ; you must give me time.” 

“ As you like,” he said, turning. “ I doubt you 
will have breath long; but take your time.” 

I went, not to Sparta, but among the people; 
also to the house of Aristocrates, deeming him a 
sure friend. I found him no traitor to Athens; and 
while he went to others in places where I dared not 
venture, I changed my captains and set at the gates 
men I knew. The nameless voices sounding through 
the streets cheered and blessed me now. I was 


G O R G O 


388 

warned of every danger ; I knew well that assassins 
sought my life, but the whole city was my body- 
guard. Then Eratosthenes, sent out by Antiphon 
some time before to revolutionise the camps, came 
back in hot haste from the Hellespont, fleeing on a 
merchant bark. I met him at the dock; the mob 
behind me shouted encouragement as I grasped his 
hand. He stood in dismay, at a loss what this could 
mean. 

“ Our case is hopeless,” he said. “ Every ship 
on the coast is against us. The fleet will accept the 
Five Thousand, but the Four Hundred they exe- 
crate. I was bold — bold, I tell you ; I did my best, 
yet I barely escaped. Unless something is done, 
and that quickly, they will be upon us. Where is 
Antiphon? What can we do? ” 

I told him all. 

“ I am with you, Theramenes,” he said, heartily. 
“ I am true to my party, but not to this length. Be- 
sides, I have a life.” And he joined us with all his 
kinsmen. 

Antiphon had not waited. His embassy was 
already in Sparta, himself at its head. But the 
Spartan is ever slow in council. 

Meanwhile my former colleagues were not idle: 
a mysterious fortress was rising on the water-front, 
commanding the harbour. The people cried out. 

“What do you think it means?” I asked them. 

“ Treason,” they shouted. “ Betrayal to Sparta.” 

And then — “Are you things without heart?” 
I shouted back to them. “ Are you nothing more 


G O R G O 


389 

than those stones? If you think they mean treason, 
fling them down. And if any would rob you of 
your city, fling them down.” 

They were Athenians. The echo of their answer 
rang along the walls; all the city heard it. They 
ran to the shore, and the stones were scattered. 
The Four Hundred, too, were scattered ; few dared 
to linger on Attic soil. The people only asked a 
leader — and I led them. 

A Spartan fleet looked in at the harbour mouth, 
but the guard-ships were manned and ready. Agis 
knocked at the gates, but none opened. 


XXXIV. 


We Three 

A FTER the heat of this action had passed, I 
sat pondering a long while, and when I arose 
these maxims were deeply graven on my 
heart. It was stony enough to receive them now. 

Fair play is not to be expected in the world as 
it is. 

We must take the world as it is. 

Threatened is warned; strike while threats are 
but voices. 

The means that accomplish good are good ; faith 
is not for the faithless. 

I do not defend these precepts; but thus the 
dagger-point had graven them within me, with 
scars of the soul which time has not effaced. There 
are higher standards, doubtless : I know that 
Socrates walked by quite another rule; but I had 
ceased to seek his counsels. “ Wrong can never 
be right,” he was always saying, “ and what else is 
requiting injury with evil but a double wrong? ” 
But I thought, if the evil they do shall not be vis- 
ited upon their heads, the world will be the king- 
dom of the worst. The gods ? — I thought of 
Apteryx with some approval : I could not see their 
390 


G O R G O 


39 1 

handiwork about me. My mother had died in 
agony. And Gorgo, so sweet and true — she was 
dead. God-fearing Nicias had ruined Athens. The 
easy treachery of Alcibiades prevailed. And An- 
tiphon — who had foiled him? who but I? To 
Antiphon I first applied my maxims. 

Unsuspecting, he had returned from Sparta — to 
fulfil his treason; we took him at the gate. The 
shock he got was of the sort that sometimes drives 
men mad, but his face showed no disorder or con- 
cern. 

“ I demand a trial,” he said, and that was all. 

It was more than had been accorded to most 
of his victims; but after he had lain in prison for 
a proper length of time, we tried him in due form. 
I myself appeared as his accuser. 

“ I think you are too hard with Antiphon,” pro- 
tested my father. 

“ As hard as the furnace-baked iron,” I an- 
swered, “ and I hope of an edge that will cut.” My 
heart was like gall as I thought of those contemptu- 
ous words, “ I care nothing for Hagnon,” and the 
rest of it. I did not repeat them. Why fret my 
father? Better to avenge him. 

But before the court I was wary. I brought no 
charge against Antiphon for his plot to subvert the 
democracy: in that I had shared, however much 
misled, and the people had sanctioned it, however 
influenced. I said little of broken oaths and lying 
promises; for what could I prove? I did not even 
press the murders he had abetted; that I left to 


G O R G O 


39 2 


others. But for his attempt to betray the city to 
her ancient enemy I demanded his life with all the 
bitter eloquence of hate; and I had my will. 

Yet he almost escaped me: his defence was mas- 
terly; in the logic of falsehood he never had an 
equal. He made truth improbable, and turned its 
edge with a thousand evasions, like a Thracian in 
sword-play. He was almost acquitted; he saw his 
advantage and presumed upon it — too far. For 
he turned on me: he drenched my name with all 
the blood I had striven to save; he flung in my 
face the vilest dregs of his own infamy. He for- 
got himself : the spell was broken, the orator was 
gone, and all saw him — a reared snake, spitting 
venom. 

“ Come,” I said, when at last he ended, “ I con- 
fess the rest also. It was I who went to Sparta — 
I but seemed to be among you. It was I who was 
taken at the gate, and Antiphon denounced me. I 
will not add another word; the eloquence which 
persuaded you to resign your rights is too strong 
for me. You have heard ; you have seen ; you have 
suffered. It is plain that some one ought to die. 
Decide between us.” 

As when a well-aimed stone has snapped the neck, 
the serpent’s crest had fallen. Where the forked 
tongue had quivered a pale face rose and strove to 
speak, but they would hear no more. I felt no pity ; 
yet another might have pitied. As he watched them 
dropping their ballots in the urns, I knew that even 


G O R G O 


393 

then he was tasting the hemlock. Another day, 
and Antiphon was but a hated memory. 

Not long after, I broke the seals of a letter from 
Thrasybulus. Thus spoke the wax : — 

Greetings , Theramenes, and all that. Twice 
within the year you have astonished me; there have 
been days when I whetted my sword for you. Yet 
I might have known ; you are still the same. It 
was the Five Thousand you wanted — and Alci- 
biades. I do not quarrel with you for that; I think 
myself we have been too lax. But when that wretch 
Pisander told us you were urging on the daggers 
along with Critias — who, I hear, has run away to 
Thrace like the wolf he is — then, Theramenes, I 
whetted my sword. It was Alcibiades who set me 
right about you. My place was here — I have done 
great things, Theramenes — but it is well that you 
were in Athens. I cannot deal with those fellows , 
— but you , somehow, always have the right word. 
I was beside myself to believe Pisander in any- 
thing; he, too, has fled, I learn. But of all that has 
come to us, this latest is best: you have poured the 
dumb hemlock on the tongue of Antiphon. Yet I 
cannot credit it that we have heard the last 
of him, Theramenes. The tongue that could per- 
suade Athens to oligarchy will convince the very 
shades of those he slaughtered ; he will start a sedi- 
tion in Hades', and send up ghosts to disturb our 
peace at night. 

But I have filled a whole leaf of my wax with 


G O R G O 


394 

idle words. We prosper , Theramenes ; while the 
Spartan jangles with the Persian and waits for slow 
Phoenician ships, we are winning hack our revenues. 
Those Spartans have no wit to follow up advan- 
tage; and Alcibiades, whose hand is everywhere, 
is worth ten of T issap hemes, — he is never at a 
loss. And he is truly loyal now, Theramenes; 1 
have made it clear to him that it was not the people 
who betrayed him. Come out to us, Theramenes; 
the people will grant you anything you ask. Alci- 
biades also desires it; it is at his suggestion that 
I write, for he says you hold hard feelings against 
him about some matter of a woman. Now do not 
be so foolish, Theramenes, as to let that weigh . 
I know those things are provoking; but remember, 
I never held any grudge against you on account 
of Myrinna, though I shall always think you were 
not quite fair with me. And you know Alcibiades; 
one must put up with his ways. Let it go: come 
and join us, Theramenes. 

Myrinna! I cursed her very name; the mere 
mention of it seemed an offence to Gorgo. But 
what of her? she was less than nothing; I had not 
thought of her for fifty moons. Thrasybulus re- 
membered Myrinna ! it seemed absurd. But Gorgo ! 
I would go to her soon, and find her — “ even in 
that darkness.” Yet I must go by a brave path, 
lest she scorn me. I would join my friends, and 
live in action till I died. 

So I asked for a ship ; they gave me twenty, but 


G O R G O 


395 

sent me first to gather money on the Thracian coast. 
Here I learned that Critias was arming the serfs 
of that region against their masters. I made small 
collections, but skirted the shore, taking what I 
could, and presently met Alcibiades in the Helles- 
pont. There were tears enough at our meeting, for 
the sight of him filled my soul with grief for Gorgo ; 
I could not help but weep, while he both wept and 
laughed, — it was so easy for him to do either. 
But indeed, I found him in high spirits. He had just 
won a victory off the Trojan plain, in full view of 
the heights of Ilium; and this had elated him out 
of all reason, because it was a triumph in the very 
footsteps of Achilles, whom he regarded as his pro- 
totype and model. 

“ My revenge has been like his,” he was fond 
of explaining. “ Such as we cannot be insulted 
with impunity, but when the fit is past we make 
good all and more. Even that treason of mine, as 
you were pleased to call it, son of Hagnon, was no 
other than his — except that I could never sit lout- 
ishly within a tent, as he did. I account it no treach- 
ery to strike at those who seek my life; nor do you, 
as our lamented Antiphon bears me witness. But 
because of the violet sparkles that are quenched, 
you may call me anything, Hagnonides,” he would 
conclude, regretfully. “ It may well be that the 
flavour would have cloyed; but now she will ever 
be to you like the fragrance of untasted fruit.” 

“ Say nothing more of Gorgo.” So at last I 
begged of him. 


G O R G O 


396 

He turned his eyes on me with a flush of sur- 
prise. “You speak of her in tones like one who 
prays; you take it much to heart. I would find 
you a substitute more luscious than Olympian Hebe 
— but have it as you will.” 

A few days later Thrasybulus joined us. He 
shouted with joy when he saw us together. 

“ Now we shall win — we three; I have always 
said it. You have done this rightly, Theramenes, 
and like yourself; now is no time to think of 
women.” 

We pressed the Spartans hard, and set up tro- 
phies. Then came a reverse. Alcibiades still paid 
visits to Sardis — one too many. The satrap, fright- 
ened by ominous whispers, laid his guest in chains; 
for a month we mourned and waited. 

“ We have lost him,” said Thrasybulus, " and 
that is the worst loss yet. It is twenty to one they 
have set him in the boat — an awful death, past all 
telling — and Alcibiades ! Why would he tempt the 
Mede?” 

“ He will escape,” I insisted. “No chains can 
hold him. He would escape from behind the gates 
of Pluto, like Sisyphus.” 

Say anything you will : it shall some time and 
in some way be fulfilled, — but not often so 
promptly nor so according to intent. For while 
we were speaking a great clamour arose, and who 
else but Alcibiades dashed into camp, riding wildly 
on a Persian horse and in Medish robes stained 
with sweat. He leaped down, but did not pause 


GO R G O 


397 

to change his array — scarcely to greet his friends. 
All the army was thronging forth and crowding 
about him, and thus he addressed them. I had 
never seen him so roused : — 

“Do you wonder to see me? I, too, wonder, 
— but enough of that. Expect nothing more of the 
Persian but the clatter of arrows. His gold is 
against you ; his horse is against you, and his ships ; 
he is our foe from of old, and we from of old have 
vanquished him. Are you murmuring still for your 
pay? You shall earn it. You must battle by land 
and sea, and batter walls; their gold is yours when 
you wrest it out of their citadels. From to-day it 
is war, not words.” 

And under his leadership war was victory. We 
lured the enemy’s fleet forth from Cyzicus, swept 
behind it through the mist, drove it to shore, and 
burned it on the beach. We fought with Phar- 
nabazus and his horsemen in the surf, slew Spartan 
Mindarus amid his wrecks, and routed all his pikes. 
Then it was that the message meant for the Ephors 
was read in Athens : “ Our timbers are broken ; 
our men are starving; we know not what to do.” 

For a time they could do nothing. The fir-trees 
and ship-yards and golden darics of the Mede were 
all at their service, but fleets are not built in a day. 
While they hewed and hammered and calked, we 
swept the Hellespont from sea to sea. Again the 
passing grain-ships paid us tribute; the soldiers 
were paid; the mouths of the poorest in Athens 


G O R G O 


398 

were full of bread. King Agis still sat on his hill- 
top, but the citizens flouted at him from the walls. 
The envoys of Sparta stood at our gates asking 
peace, but such was our hope that we turned them 
back. 


XXXV. 


An Entry and an Exit 

B UT for that one great sorrow of Gorgo’s death, 
these years would have been among the 
sweetest of my life. Yet after the first keen 
shock, I sometimes wondered that my grief was 
not more bitter, — that I felt so little haste to die. 
And at another thing I wondered : I never seemed 
to feel her presence near me. I never saw her ghost 
in any dream ; my sleeping spirit ranged the shad- 
owland in vain. Awake, I could not think of her 
otherwise than as when she dwelt in Sparta. 

For more than three years had slipped into mem- 
ory since I had read those dreadful words that told 
me of her loss ; and every month had brought some 
news of gain to Athens. The sea waves danced to 
our pipes and caressed our prows with foamy kisses ; 
the enemy lurked in land-locked harbours, or stole 
watchfully from port to port. Even Byzantium had 
fallen at last, and I had sat as its governor, levying 
toll on its ever-flowing stream of laden ships. I 
had now returned to the city and had met great 
welcome. 

The Five Thousand had justified my faith ; never 
399 


G O R G 


O 


400 


was Athens happier than while they ruled. But 
who can hold a just balance in democracy ? My 
plan had lapsed; I found the rabble in full domi- 
nance again. Yet for the present all went well. 

One morning all the city swayed toward the port ; 
the fleet of Alcibiades was making in. He stood 
on the deck as his ship neared the wharf, but drew 
back from the ladder. I had never seen him so 
nearly abashed. 

“ Come,” I called — “ hear how the people greet 
you.” 

“ Gods ! ” he answered, “ I can almost taste the 
hemlock in the air. Here is its native soil.” 

But the people shouted loudly, declaring him the 
saviour of Athens. One who stood near me at- 
tempted to utter another name, but a sturdy old 
cobbler smote him across the lips with much hearti- 
ness. 

“ He is none such, hark you. I think you be no 
good citizen to call him such, and corn at four for 
the obol, that had gone above the even obol.” 

It was not in the heart of Alcibiades to resist 
their acclamations long. His colour came back; he 
descended the ladder with the air of a conqueror. 
He swelled with pride and took a new view of him- 
self as he marched to his home through a thunder 
of plaudits, — flung sneers at old opponents as he 
passed them, and began to sow promises broadcast 
among his friends. Yet when he reached the door, 
he stood still and almost wept. 

“ It has been eight years, Theramenes,”' he said, 


G O R G O 


401 

— “ eight years and more, since I passed the thresh- 
old/’ 

The next day he made a marvellous speech before 
the assembly, praising himself and denouncing his 
enemies until I trembled for him. But the populace 
applauded all and howled down every protesting 
voice. They voted him a hundred ships ; they 
compelled the priests to fling into the sea the leaden 
tablets scored with curses. 

“ I wish they had not done that,” I said to Conon, 
who was to be his lieutenant. “ It seems like cast- 
ing them into the lap of the gods for fulfilment.” 

“ These things will always bear a double sense,” 
he answered. “ We shall see.” 

If indeed there was anything in Athens that Alci- 
biades feared, it was those priests of the mysteries ; 
and when all was ready he held his forces a full 
month to escort their procession across the plain 
in defiance of the Spartans. Doubtless, too, it 
pleased him to vex Agis. Meanwhile he rioted after 
the old fashion; I could not restrain him. 

“ My very dissipations, splendid in their extrav- 
agance, are a glory to Athens,” he boasted. “ Where 
else in Hellas will you find an Alcibiades? But it is 
lucky for the city that I was not made manifold 

— and lucky for me. I should kill myself off in 
parcels in quarrels with myself, if there were more 
of me. I myself could not tolerate such a fellow 

— but see how they abase themselves before me.” 

“ Have you heard who is now against you on the 

coast ? ” I asked him. 


402 


G O R G O 


“ The young Persian ? That princeling, Cyrus ? 
Yes, I know : he is pouring out his gold like a 
boy, and is daft for Sparta; but if once I can get 
words with him, that gold shall fall in my lap. 
The winsome youth will be an easier bargain than 
old TissaphernesY 

“ Perhaps. But I mean Lysander.” 

“ The new admiral ? Another raw hand : I shall 
play with him. I wish you could be with me to 
see.” 

“ You willfind him more crafty than Sisyphus, 
and as savage as Cerberus, with a pride that ex- 
ceeds your own.” But I warned in vain. 

“ I remember him well. A fellow full of bluster, 
yet beaten by words in his own city. Even you, The- 
ramenes, are more than a match for Ly sander Y 

“If our captain were not so jealous of his tro- 
phies, I myself would deal with the bastard Spar- 
tan,” swaggered Antipholus; for he ever trailed 
at the heel of his patron, — the flaunting flag of all 
his vices. 

And all the world knows the outcome. While 
the general revelled on the shore, he left this 
drunken pilot in full control. With stringent in- 
junctions? Of course — but a child might have 
known. The flushed fool must needs sail forth to 
taunt Lysander; the lion leaped and rent the fleet. 
Though the gods therein are just, it is little comfort 
that fools perish in their folly. 

Then the people turned on Alcibiades and stripped 
him of command. It seems that every soul in 


G O R G O 


403 


Athens had known that it was hopeless to trust 
Alcibiades. I pleaded, but only brought suspicion 
on myself. Then came a letter, brief and scratched 
in haste : — 

Son of Hagnon, this run of the dice is played: 
I have lost. I would curse the fellow, hut he lies 
in mud already. It is myself. True, defeat never 
looks in my face — hut what does it profit ? So one 
in Athens warned me; do you know, Hagnonides, 
I never once went to him ? I dee now to my castle 
hy the Hellespont. You shall hear from me yet. 
I have learned facts of interest about this young 
Cyrus, who is Lysander’s paymaster. He who 
rules at Sousa will wish to hear; you know the 
story of Themistocles. Call me henceforth Themis- 
tocles. 

There is one thing yet. A certain Rhyzon is 
living in Ephesus; I was on his trail when this 
luck befell. And if Rhyzon — hut why say more f 
The gods have wrought some miracle. Come to 
the coast when you may. 

Rhyzon lived! My soul rang like a bell that is 
struck. Yet I dared not hope; the gods are not 
so good. And even if the wretched miser lived — 
the rest was mere delusion! it could not be! And 
still — however wild the dream, I must know the 
utmost. I sought passage to Asia, but my father’s 
mortal illness stayed me; he laid his trembling 
hands upon me and held me back. 


404 


G O R G O 


All praise to the Spartan law ! It served us well, 
then and often. The year of Lysander’s command 
was out before he could work us further injury. 
His weapon was ready, his arm almost lifted to 
strike — and the laws of Sparta called him back. 
He obeyed, — but first he flung his weapon in the 
mud; he would not pass it cleanly to another. It 
was only nature, but the gain was ours. 

Yet I think his successor a greater man than 
he. If ever Sparta had a hero, it was this Callicrat- 
idas; I except not even Gorgo’s father, Brasidas, 
nor him who fell at Thermopylae. He it was who 
scorned the contemptuous gold of Persia, — a 
grudging stipend flung to Hellas for smiting her 
own breast with brass. He it was who in his stern- 
est need would make no fellow Greek a slave ; who, 
had he lived, would have turned all spears against 
the Mede. He was our enemy, and I wrought my 
part to slay him; yet, as I view it now, his death 
was no less loss to Athens than to Sparta. He 
alone of the men of my time rose from loyalty to 
city to loyalty to Hellas. 

Lysander had made all hard for him, but gods 
and men serve such as he when the spirit is mani- 
fest. Hard usage but proved his metal ; it rang 
with eloquence and was edged with courage. Soon 
he rode at the head of a fleet that claimed the violet 
sea as its bride. So he warned us; our ships fled 
before him, yet even flight saved few; with a scanty 
remnant, Conon was locked in the harbour of Myti- 
lene. One panting trireme bore the news to Athens. 


G O R G O 


405 

We had lost Alcibiades, and already our case was 
desperate. 

Say what you will of Athens and democracy, 
no other city ever had such power to rally; like 
Alcibiades himself, she was best at the worst. Fac- 
tion was forgotten now ; our only feud was with 
the enemy. Once more we asked our gods for gold, 
and they gave until their shrines lay bare. The 
plate from all our houses mingled in the melting- 
pot; it was disgrace for any to eat or drink from 
silver. 

My father was dying, but he reared on his bed; 
his eyes flashed in their sunken sockets, and the 
lines of his face drew firm. “ Hold nothing back,” 
he said, “ save what is in your mother’s casket. 
Let all men see that Athens needs no traitor.” 

That casket and another I kept; Athena might 
give her jewels, but I would not part with Gorgo’s. 
With the rest I did as my father bade; and while 
the applause to his name was still echoing across 
the market, he passed beyond the reach of any 
voice. 

Meanwhile the timbers in the yards were framing 
themselves into ships as if Orpheus had played 
to them. In thirty days a hundred triremes floated 
in the harbour, and half as many more were gath- 
ered from other ports. Then the prison doors were 
thrown open ; no man who would fight for his city 
any longer wore fetters. The slave who had 
grasped his freedom with the oar sat by the knight 


G O R G O 


406 

who had leaped from his horse to the benches; 
none was too rich or too poor, none too good or 
too bad, to serve our need. I myself had command 
of a trireme, built and equipped from my father’s 
estate. 


XXXVI. 


The Greatest Battle Yet 

“ IV T OW, Theramenes, it is once and all for 
^ VI Athens. This is the greatest sea-fight 
yet.” So Thrasybulus shouted back across 
the water from the line in front. 

It was true; no eye that still drank light in 
Hellas had ever seen the like. Almost three hun- 
dred ships hung on the rolling swell in order of 
battle, with a stormy avenue extending far between 
their tossing beaks; oars and spears, not less than 
fifty thousand souls were afloat upon their planks; 
the opposing fronts were above twelve stades in 
length. The advantage of numbers was ours by 
a little, but the fleet of the enemy was much the 
better manned and drilled : so well did our generals 
know it that they ranged us double on each flank, 
while the foe, too confident, perhaps, but not with- 
out good warrant, bore down in one long line of 
outreaching fir and flashing prows. 

For him who fights with triremes, motionless is 
weaponless ; a moment more and we had overstayed 
our time. Our captains ended their exhortations 
shouting ; with a shriek of the pipes we bowed upon 
407 


G O R G O 


408 

our oars and clutched the sea with triple banks, — 
twenty strokes and the rams were crashing. What 
followed none has ever truly told, nor ever may; 
it was like the meeting of the tides in the straits by 
Chalcis. 

At first, indeed, we manoeuvred with some at- 
tempt at concert; but in stubborn conflict amid a 
rising tempest all order was soon confounded. We 
struck as the waves would let us, now foiled, now 
swooping to the blow with terrific violence. I saw 
ships broken asunder by cleaving prows; others, 
shattered together, I saw sinking with commingled 
timbers, — and such was the fate of the galley 
that bore the pennant of Callicratidas, staunch and 
strong though it was, like the heart of him who 
wielded it. 

This ship was the swiftest in his fleet, manned 
with his stoutest oars, and with his chosen comrades 
on its deck; it had wrought us much harm. I first 
perceived it on the summit of a billow, aiming at 
one of our Samians ; I made toward them, but the 
sea baffled me, — my pilot was no Meletus. Again 
the Spartan rose on a crest, — he himself at the 
bow, a file of spears pressing behind him, ready to 
board at the moment of touch. Down the green 
slope they darted, but the Samian, much to my 
amazement, never swerved; with a cry to the oars 
she leaped like a water-snake, and met them with 
a shock so full on the prow that both rams burst 
inward, and the very cat-heads crashed together 
through the splintering planks. The spears fell 


G O R G O 


409 

flat, like wheat before the sickle; the whole file 
was flung headlong, five over the bulwarks, their 
leader the foremost, — and the emerald flash of his 
helmet, as it sunk and wavered in the swaying 
waters, was the last that any ever saw of Callicrat- 
idas. 

I have wondered since what may have been his 
thoughts as he thus lapsed down, sliding through 
liquid fathoms of twilight gloom, ever deepening, 
to darker night in the soundless gulfs below, — 
over-rolled by all the tumult of storm and battle, 
vanished and still in an instant ! They were not' of 
war, I fancy, nor of ships ; the scene was changed. 
Indeed, it is much the same for us all when we sink 
into darkness. The soul paints its own pictures : 
perhaps he too had a Gorgo. 

In that wild, bewildered conflict nothing seemed 
certain; we conquered here, and were foundering 
yonder. The whole field of the sea was full of 
driving beaks and heaving wrecks; the fight raged 
to the offing: yet the odds were slowly turning in 
our favour. The death of the admiral was noised 
above the storm, shouted from deck to deck; the 
enemy, dismayed, looked about them for their fleet, 
and saw few ships, some already in flight. We also 
gazed, and saw victory; we charged the more 
fiercely, two and three against one. They were 
fleeing now from all quarters, with our gathering 
squadrons hot in chase; of twice three score that 
had come against us, hardly two score saved their 
keels. 


410 


G O R G O 


I started to follow, but my banks were crippled, 
and the drift of pitching oars and timbers so im- 
peded us that we made small headway. That was 
not the worst: all along our course lay tilting 
wrecks, with raft-like decks almost awash, off which 
came cries to heaven which the wind snatched and 
bore elsewhere ; then, beneath some toppling wave, 
the voices streamed in bubbles and the wind was 
freighted with souls. To most of these I gave little 
heed, — they were merciless enemies, paying the 
forfeit of defeat; but we, too, had met losses, and 
when the cries sounded in good Attic I could not pass 
without pause. The risk was great, for the sea 
was mounting; twice we struck down those whom 
we sought to save, and barely escaped their fate; it 
was only by bailing that we held afloat, but what 
could be done by one crew from a drunken hulk we 
did. 

“ These cries will presently echo in Athens,” I 
said to myself, as I listened. “ A funeral victory, 
this. They are fewer now; I can do no more.” 

But a hoarse call rose from the water, close by 
the stern : “ God’s fire-fork, lads, heave a rope ! 
Quick, lads, for the love of Athens and the craft ! ” 

We dipped so low that I caught him by the arms 
and dragged him inboard as we lifted. 

“ You ! ” he gasped. “ I am glad to owe you a 
life.” He sat on the deck, spitting water. “ A flagon, 
lad, and I shall owe you another. I have been in 
the drench of Styx.” 

By luck I found what he wanted. “ I shall get 


G O R G O 


41 1 

small good of it, lad,” he said, sombrely, laying down 
the empty leather. “ Three days in the shop of 
the Chalcidian will scarcely mellow the tides I have 
gulped. Not since the casting away of Odysseus, 
lad, has any been so washed of wine and life. I 
cannot conceive how those fishes endure it.” 

“ Meletus,” I cried, “ the sight of you is wine 
to me. Leave the fishes to their brine, and tell me 
all.” 

“ I have left them less of it than I would, lad,” 
he answered, with a faint leer, — “ though it may 
well chance that in this Pontus which I have en- 
gulfed there is a due portion of fishes. But all is 
this : for lack of better I sailed upon a meal-tub, 
which proved a tub indeed, and a weary leg an ill 
sweep for its steering; and when at length I had 
swallowed such portion of the tempest as the gods 
ordained, I was borne to your hand for rescue. 
The rest, I have hope, will be a manner of ebbing 
of the tide.” 

“ But how were you wrecked — you, Meletus? ” 

“ How ? It is well asked, lad. It was a sheer 
betrayal of good timbers, a treason, as it were, to 
the craft, for which I am rightly crusted with salt. 
Lad, I have swung the sweeps all my life, yet knew 
not that the element on which we sail was so evil 
and insistent of flavour.” 

“ They shall find another flagon. Go on.” 

“ Bid them keep the neck of it close strapped, lest 
brine enter. Well, the fellow was making havoc, 
and I thought, ‘ It is an ill deed, but the man is 


G O R G O 


412 

worth it/ I could not deal with him otherwise, 
because of that Hermon, who was a very sufficient 
pilot. He was of Megara, and I would rank him 
above yonder Ariston, whose bones — ” 

“ Peace to the pilots ! Of whom do you speak? ” 
“Of Hermon, whose bones — ” 

“ No, but the other ? ” 

“ Rest by Styx. Yet I grant you that Hermon 
had the better of me, for Styx, being of the nature 
of a river and less brackish — ” 

“ They shall mingle the wine.” 

“ Nay, lad, I will mingle it,” he cried, rising to 
seize the flask. “ I still can feel the fishes bump 
within me, but I mend, and the sweeter liquid may 
yet pervade the mass. It was of the admiral I was 
speaking when you threatened me — him they call 
Callicras, or some such gay-headed name. I ob- 
served that he stood far to fore, with his legs wide 
strided, thus — or it might be with something more 
of steadiness, as not having drunk of brine. He 
had forgot he was on the sea, it is likely — no 
Spartan ever remembers. I had Samians, mark 
you, and I deemed he was worth them all. I be- 
trayed them, lad, most treasonably, striking keel 
to keel, which none expected, and as we shut to- 
gether it pleasured me to see him dive for it. Yet 
Meletus, too, would have gone groping for purple 
oysters but for the chance of the meal-tub, which 
I hugged with more affection than I knew was in 
my heart.” 

“ And the Samians ? ” 


G O R G O 


413 


“ They gave me ill words, lad, as they foundered ; 
but I bade them wait by Styx and I would get them 
over. They will be impatient, I surmise, but it 
was not my meaning to mislead them, for I had 
then no better thought than to join them quite 
hastily. If I am foresworn to them I might blame 
you, lad, but the wine mends all; and if you will 
pluck yon bath-master off the sweeps, I will bring 
you to land, which is out of all likelihood as we 
are pointing.” 

I gave him the sweeps. The sky was dark with 
clouds and the fall of night. The whole field of 
battle with its huddled wrack had drifted many 
leagues, and we upon it. The broken hulks were 
gone or silent. 

“ How many do you think have perished ? ” I 
asked, suddenly. 

“ Well, lad, accounting for enemies and slaves 
and foreigners, not omitting the Samians — who 
died in a good cause, mind you, though ungra- 
ciously — all told, I would estimate — ” 

“ Not those, but of our citizens — native born ? ” 

“ Citizens? They are not so many as formerly; 
all manner of two-legged things were on the 
benches. But of those, rich and poor and such as 
thrive by their wits, I would say upward of a thou- 
sand.” 

“ A thousand citizens, Meletus, lost from a 
wasted city ! ” 

“ The death of some of them will be a saving of 
lives, lad.” 


G O R G O 


414 

“ No, Meletus, those are they who remain; or, if 
any such are beneath the sea, their shades will be 
more deadly than ever were their tongues.” 

“ I would think you have the right of it, lad.” 

“ And we alone have sought to rescue them ! 
Not another ship turned back.” 

“ May the gods of fair weather blow on your 
sails for it, lad; Meletus would else have died a 
slow death by breaking on the tub. But as to there 
being no others, though my eyes are yet bleared 
with the swash, I seem to descry a hull to north- 
ward with motion of its own. Cliffs of Cocytus, 
lad! you lack direction. Yonder is southward.” 

It was long before I could make out anything, 
but after a time I heard the plash and creak of oars, 
and a trireme showed in the mist, laden with men. 

“What ship?” came a hail — and I knew the 
voice. 

“ Soteria, of Athens,” bawled Meletus. 

“ Are you calling for help ? ” 

“ Meletus pilot, trierarch Theramenes,” he con- 
tinued, with a note of scorn. “ Shall we take you 
in tow ? ” 

“ Thrasybulus ! ” I shouted. “ The gods be 
thanked that we both are here ! ” And soon we 
were standing by, as near as we dared bring the 
oars. 

“ You, too, have been gleaning lives,” he cried, 
joyfully. “ I might have known, for it is like you. 
Yet I thought you had gone with the rest.” 

“ Which way, Thrasybulus ? ” 


G O R G O 


4i5 

“ Down, I almost hoped. In the chase, as I 
feared. They are crazy, or worse, to make idle pur- 
suit with this behind, — yet I myself ran with them 
half a league before I thought to turn. We can do 
no more, and ‘ which way ? ’ is indeed the question. 
Is that Meletus, who, they say, sunk Hermon ? ” 

“ The very Meletus,” broke in that much molli- 
fied pilot, “ and there is a question well answered. 
It is all in the gift of direction. You were pointed 
for Egypt, lad, whither I sail not, — but hold after 
Meletus, and he will bring you in.” 

“ Over Styx ? ” I asked, doubtfully ; for such 
was the present aspect. 

“ To the camp, lad. They have put to shore and 
started fires, for I sense some waft of smoke.” 

So we started together, beating against the gale 
with weary oars; but storm and fog and gloom 
soon parted us, for we had no lights. With a lull 
of the wind came rain, yet the roll of the sea did 
not abate; I stood on the fore deck, full of dread, 
vainly peering into the night. 

Then something loomed like a blot on the dark- 
ness, but as we crashed upon it Jove’s sudden fire- 
bolt lighted all. The deck of a foundered merchant- 
man lay low, full of leaping shapes, — yet I seemed 
to see but one. Night shut again, but even through 
the crackling thunder I heard her cry: 

“ Theramnas ! ” 


XXXVII. 


At Last 


“y^ORGO! ” 

VJf There were other cries, no few, a rend- 
ing of wood amid the roar of waves, and 
over all the pealing thunder; yet our voices met 
and kissed in the darkness, as if alone. I leaped 
blindly, felt beneath me the shudder of planks, and, 
as the sky again opened, darted forward. She 
sprang into my arms, unseen : not an instant was 
lost in words ; I staggered back to where our prow 
was grinding, guided by sound. Still another flash 
showed Meletus leaning from the bow, whither, 
leaving his helpers, he had run at the shock; with 
all my force I cast her into his receding arms by 
its gleam, then leaped through night. My fingers 
caught, slipped, yet held; I struggled up over the 
bulwarks, and fell against Meletus. 

“ Gods ! did you make it, lad ? I have fast that 
you sent me, but by the burning of Phlegethon, I 
am blinded. It came up in my face like red fire 
through the lightning; I winced, lad, but what 
I found in my arms seemed soft and lovesome, like 
a maid. Yet I doubt of the essence, lad, and would 
416 


G O R G O 


4 1 7 

bid you have care what manner of being you take 
from the sea by night. I have seen those little black 
daemons running about the deck in late watches, 
but I never before saw fire-sprite, and know not 
what it portends.’ , 

“ Joy/’ I said, with a full heart. 

“ Theramnas,” a soft voice murmured, “ will 
you not take this maid quickly and for always ? ” 

“ Have it so* if you will, lad,” he said, with some 
asperity, “ but I doubt the manner of the essence ; 
if it burns not may the fire-fork cleave to my tongue. 
The voice it gives forth is like the sweet drip of 
the flagon, but you have heard of those Sirens. I 
have known of a good bark cracked in open sea 
^and fair weather on a witchery of floating rocks for 
"less” 

“ Oh, Theramnas ! ” she cried, between laughing 
and sobbing. 

Again we ground against the wreck; with a 
scramble about the prow dark forms rose and passed 
us. 

“ We are taking on dead men in my view of it,” 
growled the pilot, “ and I like not the breed.” 

“ Back to your sweeps, and that quickly, or those 
whom you left there may fulfil the worst without 
aid of floating stones.” 

“ And that is a timely word, lad. If those thala- 
mites send us not to Acheron with unseasonable 
ramming, they will head again for Egypt.” He 
sniffed and listened — “ Yea, lad, it is so they are 
pointing ” — and ran sternward. 


G O R G O 


418 

I sat upon the deck with Gorgo in my arms. Rain 
was still falling; the soft, warm drops beat in our 
faces, mingled with dashes of spray, but we did 
not heed. The lightning flashes, less frequent now, 
showed but a narrow circle of black billows, yet 
we scarcely saw even that ; our eyes were not on the 
sea in those precious moments. But what need of 
light ? After all those years of waiting, of struggle 
and peril and barriers that neither love nor courage 
could surmount, Gorgo lay in my arms; she whom 
I had mourned as dead, my dream, the spirit my soul 
had sought in vain, — she lay on my breast with 
pulsing heart and warm arms locked about my neck, 
breathing sighs of perfect rest. The rain ! the 
storm ! what of them ? Death itself ! what would 
it matter? 

“ Nothing, Gorgo, nothing shall ever p&rt us 
now,” I whispered. 

“ O boy ” — she laughed, softly — “I am glad 
you are not a boy, but a man. And that is because 
I love you, all and all, and every morsel of me 
and my very soul is to you. I did not truly love 
before — or it seems so. I was almost afraid ; but 
now — Theramnas ” — and more than all her 
breathless syllables the sinking of her cheek upon 
my shoulder told me. 

What / said she would know, but 1 know not. 
It is what she said that lingers like remembered 
music in my heart. I have loved the silence, that 
I might listen to it. 

“ O Theramnas ” — it scarcely seemed a sound, 


G O R G O 


4*9 

our souls were so near — “ it has been so terrible 
without you, — more terrible than ever I can tell. 
There is none that is good and true but you, The- 
ramnas — whose bride this happy Gorgo is, and 
whose glad wife she shall always be, so long as 
there is any Gorgo anywhere. Do you see? I 
can say it, and love to say it, now. And now you 
might slay Lysander or any other — and Golas 
shall shoot as you bid — only keep this Gorgo. She 
has had a knife hid in her bosom, but she never 
will need it now.” And she loosed her arms for a 
moment to fling it from her. 

Then, after a long time spent in sweeter ques- 
tionings, — 

“ Where is Rhyzon? ” I asked. For I thought of 
him not unkindly in my joy. 

She, shrunk in my arms. “ You shall not speak 
of him, Theramnas. He was on that ship; I do 
not know. I would almost wish he was drowned.” 

“ Drowned, Gorgo ! ” 

“ It would be better so. When men are grown so 
wicked it is not good that they live; yet if he be 
truly my father’s brother, you cannot strike him 
with your sword. For I think — he so loved gold 
— oh, Theramnas ! I cannot. I will not have that 
Rhyzon in this hour.” 

I felt a foam in my throat. “ He shall hold an 
accounting with the house of Hagnon, not of 
silver.” 

“ Yes,” she said earnestly, “ but not of blood, 
neither. Boy, boy! the gods may kill him, but not 


420 


G O R G O 


you. I had kept that knife for Gorgo — but see! 
she is here and all for you. Oh, thank the gods, 
Theramnas! and speak no more of Rhyzon this 
night.” 

At last the fires of the camp glinted and twinkled 
through the surge, soon rising clear; we grounded 
smoothly on the island beach, and stayed the stern 
with anchors. The generals were sitting in coun- 
cil ; I had scarcely leaped to land when they sum- 
moned me before them. It was hard, but I dared 
not delay. Gorgo I left with Meletus, trusting no 
other. 

“ Guard with your life, and drink as mildly as 
you may,” I exhorted him. 

“ There is a manner of rats in the hold,” he said, 
sulkily. 

“ See that you keep them there : let none go or 
come. But above all, guard — ” 

“ The fire-sprite? That spell is strong upon you, 
lad. Well — I owe you a life — but I like not the 
essence.” 

But Meletus too came under the spell when he 
looked on Gorgo. “ I was mistaken in the ele- 
ment, lad,” he exclaimed loudly. “ It is of wine, 
not fire — or it might be of that nectar wherewith 
Father Jove, they say, is wont to steady his legs 
when he would heave thunder, but I know not the 
tang of it. Not but here is fire, too, — yet only 
as of the wine, a sparkle, as it were, of sweet and 
comfortable fieriness. I will guard her, lad, if it 
brings me to the swimming of Phlegethon.” 


G O R G O 


42 1 

I found the generals in angry debate. “ It has 
been a capital mistake,” Diomedon was saying as I 
approached. “You are all my witnesses that I 
cried out against it and strove to call you back.” 

I paused in the shadow to listen. “ It will be 
a capital mistake for you, if you turn upon us,” 
retorted a wheezing voice. It was Erasinides — 
whom I detested. If you have seen a toad you have 
seen Erasinides. 

“ By this reckless, fruitless folly we have missed 
the saving of I dare not think how many lives,” 
persisted Diomedon, “ and I maintain that even 
now — ” 

“ Beware lest you prove to be the one we deputed 
for that very purpose,” sneered Erasinides. 

“ We might have done both had you heeded my 
words as we gathered,” blustered Thrasyllus. 
“ There were ships enough for chase and rescue 
too.” 

“ Perhaps we did heed that good advice,” snuffled 
the voice I hated. “ Perhaps it was you we de- 
puted. Friends, we have only to agree and make 
a choice. I think we sent back Thrasyllus with 
thirty ships, — or was it Diomedon?” 

“ The god’s curse upon you,” gasped Thrasyllus, 
“ a common trierarch will serve if that is the turn, 
— or a pair of them.” 

“ A lie must at least be plausible,” protested Dio- 
medon. He also was pale. “ As for me, gods and 
men saw me, that I was with the rest of you.” 

“ Yes, we must be plausible,” assented Erasinides. 


422 


G O R G O 


“ It is better, doubtless, to choose beyond our own 
number, since we are at one. I think Theramenes 
was not seen with us, — the very man. Thrasy- 
bulus, too, turned back, — another. They were both 
deputed with ample commission, but the storm 
daunted them. They will plead the storm, of course, 
before the people, but that is their own affair.” 

“ Why not blame all on the storm?” exclaimed 
young Pericles, eagerly. “ Why mention names ? 
We may say in our dispatches that the storm pre- 
vented. It is enough, and this is dastardly.” 

At that I strode among them. “ Dastardly it is,” 
I cried ; “ and dastardly it was to leave sinking 
comrades. The lie is well devised, but its edge 
shall be turned.” 

“ Theramenes, we are rejoiced to see you,” puffed 
the swelling toad. “ We feared you were lost. 
You remember, doubtless, the strict injunction we 
laid upon you, — to return in haste with three ships 
out of each squadron? We trust you have obeyed 
in every particular, lest we find it our unwilling 
duty to report you. Did you rescue many ? ” 

“ Enough to bear me witness,” I answered, 
shortly. 

Consternation was in their faces. Young Pericles 
leaped to his feet. “We shall lay the blame on 
nothing else but the storm. Stand with us, The- 
ramenes.” 

“ Aye, meet a storm with a storm ; two storms 
will perhaps bring a calm. Stand with you? It is 


G O R G O 


423 

late thought of and suddenly suggested, — I will 
reflect upon it at some leisure.” 

“ Lies or truth, I will take no such chances before 
a mad mob,” exclaimed Protomachus. “It is to 
throttle a she-wolf whining over dead whelps. I 
am straight for Thrace.” And he left the assembly. 

I also slipped away in the confusion, hastening 
to my ship. The black sky had grown gray, but 
the earth still lay in shadow and the camp-fires 
smouldered low. 

“ She is safe, lad,” Meletus greeted me, “ and I 
think it is but a lass when all is said, though, as 
it were, flamesome beyond any; yet in my view 
of it in some sort lacking in decorum, lad, for when 
I sought to counsel with her — and soberly, mind 
you — of this notable rashness of trusting to a 
heady youth, she laughed out upon me, lad, like 
one in wine.” 

“ Push off and make speed with silent pipes,” I 
interrupted. “ Steer for Athens, and let none pass 
us.” 


XXXVIII. 


The Last Hiss of the Snake 

A S the little islands sunk behind us we met 
Thrasybulus slowly beating in ; he had 
wandered all night on the sea. When I told 
him of that council on the beach, he wheeled his 
ship. 

“ The scoundrels ! ” he broke forth. “ Then I 
am also for Athens, Theramenes. With the cargo 
we bear I think we shall match them — we two.” 
We both sighed at the thought of a third. “We 
must provision as we can at Psyra; I am deeply 
laden, and we are athirst and unfed.” 

“ Yea, and let us have on some manner of lights,” 
called Meletus, “ lest you weave another fish-net in 
the darkness. Yet in my way of thinking, a pro- 
fessing pilot who cannot follow guidance on a plain 
course should sail on Charon’s ferry.” 

But the mind of Thrasybulus still lingered on the 
council, and his anger grew. “ The scoundrels ! ” 
he again broke forth. “We were to be their scapo- 
goats, Theramenes — we who saved! Do you see? 
We were to have their shame and drink their hem- 
lock who strove to save while they sat about the 

424 


G O R G O 


425 

fire and plotted this! Even Thrasyllus! Do yon 
know, Theramenes, I would have trusted that man 
with my life?” 

" In battle you well might,” I answered, “ but 
not in council.” 

“ A good democrat too! We wrought together 
hand in hand at Samos, Theramenes : I account him 
now no better than an oligarch. And Diomedon — 
so brave a soldier ! ” 

“ Yes, in the hot flush of the fight. But his heart 
chilled at the hemlock.” 

“ It is a chilly word, Theramenes ; yet sooner than 
betray I would take the cup. But the dregs of an- 
other’s infamy I will not drain. The scoundrels! 
oh, the scoundrels! They shall have their own.” 

At Psyra I gave the seamen a portion of their 
wages, and the rest three obols each to buy food. 
While they were stripping the markets I sat beside 
Gorgo, and drawing her pearls from my bosom 
slipped them upon her wrist. “ So I will bear them 
with me henceforth,” I said. 

“ Oh! and have you those?” she said, blushing. 

“ But why did you not ask me for them, Gorgo? ” 

“ And indeed, Theramnas, you are seeking to 
remind this maid of a very foolish thing that she 
would willingly forget altogether. Yet in Athens 
she might, perhaps, have asked — in Hagnon’s 
house, and sitting thus beside you. For you told 
her, Theramnas, on that foolish, dreadful day, that 
her pearls were in Athens and there she should 
have them.” 


G O R G O 


426 

“ And so it was upon that day, and she shall have 
them there, yet need not wait. For since that day 
they have ever been with me, Gorgo, and never at 
any hour would you have asked in vain.” 

“ And is not this maid glad to see them ? Surely 
you would not think that I did not ask because I 
did not care, Theramnas. It was for very shame 
that I did not ask ; and I shall ever be reminded by 
them of that dark hut that is like an evil dream, and 
the door you set up, all broken and rickety, to shut 
away the badness of Gorgo. Yet you bore my pearls 
— and in battle, Theramnas — or would you leave 
them in your tent? For how ever could you carry 
them — under your corselet, Theramnas ? ” 

“ I wear no corselet on shipboard, but bear a 
shield,” I answered, quickly. “ Now laugh, Gorgo, 
if you will, for the laugh is sweet to hear and I 
mind not. But as to what was spoken in the helot’s 
hut, may we not account that even and the counters 
swept from the board and no more words ? ” 

“ I would be the gainer, I think. Yet you swore 
that day, Theramnas, more fearfully than any that 
I ever heard, — unless it would be this wonderful 
pilot you have, who has told me that by a certain 
fire-fork you are a staunch comrade, and but for a 
certain vexation of horses in your wine as sufficient 
a seaman as ever pranced on pine save one, yet by 
Sesostris and Isis in the matter of lasses a perilous 
lad and rash of oaths. That, he said, was his view 
of it. Is it so, Theramnas ? ” And we laughed 
together. 


G O R G O 


427 

“ See,” she exclaimed, holding up her wrist, “ that 
is true which they say. The pearls are grown more 
lustrous by sleeping close to the heart.” 

“ But, Gorgo, where are the rest? Even those 
dimples of the ears are empty, and no Lycurgus near 
to trouble you.” 

“ He sold them from me, Theramnas, — the pearls 
of my ears and all the jewels of my mother he sold 
for darics and staters, and scarcely gave this Gorgo 
bread. Yet some of the pearls I gave those who 
were to carry letters, which made him angry; and 
I knew that he had stopped the letters, for you did 
not come.” 

“ Rhyzon denied you bread ! ” 

“ And Gorgo herself he would have sold at last, 
to Lysander. He had bargained for it, Theramnas ; 
but I made him understand that Lysander would pay 
him no gold for a dead Gorgo. Then, after Lysander 
was gone, he said we would go to Athens, and you, 
perhaps, would give him gold. And I went so will- 
ingly — but Theramnas, I think it was all a lie, 
to draw me into the ship. For that ship was loaded 
with slaves, and on it was a terrible, little old man, 
all yellow and shrunk, with a turban wound low on 
his forehead, — and I fear — oh ! Theramnas — I 
feared — ” 

“ A little yellow old man,” I almost screamed, 
“ with a turban ? ” 

But screams of another sort were rising from the 
wharf, and above them the roar of Meletus : “ God’s 
fork ! I have those rats, lad, two of them.” 


G O R G O 


428 

I ran to the bow. Meletus held his captives by 
the throat, one in each hand, shaking them as if they 
were rats indeed. 

“ They were scuttling ashore, lad,” he said, “ and 
one, I would surmise, I have had some previous deal- 
ings with. For if that furled sail-cloth of his be 
not a manner of stable for the nag Meletus gave 
him off Leucadia, may the — ” 

“ Bring them up,” I commanded. “ I know them, 
both.” 

For one was Rhyzon, gaunt and sordid; as he 
saw me standing by Gorgo, his jaw shook, but he 
could not speak. 

“ Cast him in chains below,” I said. “ His reck- 
oning comes later. As for that other — ” 

Meletus snatched away the turban : the branded 
outline of a horse appeared in hideous mottle on 
his brow. 

“ Cast him presently to the sharks.” 

“ It is well conceived, lad. And while he waits 
the coming of his kind the brine will cool his brow.” 

The base wretch cowered at my feet. “ Oh, no ! 
oh, no ! It shall be ransom, noble son of Hagnon. 
Yes, it shall be a ransom of much gold, of the amber 
gold, which shall much restore the noble master’s 
house.” 

“ When the sharks have eaten you we will then 
discuss the ransom if you like,” I said. 

“ O Apollon ! O noble son of Apollon ! Surely the 
noble prince of his country will spare the old mer- 
chant who has suffered such a dreadful usage. He 


G O R G O 


429 

will heed the good sophist ; he will not kill. He will 
take the rich ransom. The old merchant has done 
ill, but he has suffered such punishment.” 

“ Pray to Bel, not to me.” 

“ He is so far; he is not of Greece. You shall 
have Golas. The old merchant will restore to you 
Golas. For he knows the place. Yes, Golas.” 

I paused at that, and looked hard in his face. 
“ You can restore to me Golas?” 

“ I swear by Bel, and by Apollon, and by Moloch. 
You shall have him — Golas. But you must set 
the poor old merchant free.” 

“ Where is he, then ? I would not trust you a 
handbreadth.” 

“ I will not tell you that : I will not tell it on the 
fire. But you shall take the old merchant to Athens, 
and when you have sworn he will bring you to 
Golas.” 

“ I will swear sooner to rend you with torments 
than free you, if you lead me merely to his bones.” 

“ No, no! Not that — but alive. Not dead nor 
spoiled, but a good slave. Why should the merchant 
spoil a good slave? You will take Golas, and then 
set the merchant free. You will swear — by Apol- 
lon?” 

“ Cast the Syrian also in chains below, — and 
clench well his irons. If his promise holds he shall 
go, unharmed — by me.” 

It was late on the third day when we reached 
Piraeus, for our galleys dragged and our banks were 
ill-oared. We found the whole city rejoicing, for the 


G O R G O 


430 

Paralus had already arrived, bringing the news of 
victory. There was little else in the dispatches, — 
some mention of the storm, less of wrecks, and none 
whatever of me, as I soon made certain; for the 
time, at least, the caution of young Pericles had pre- 
vailed. Yet with the official letters others had come 
of a different tenor. I felt myself assailed by hard 
looks shot from gloomy eyes : o>f my friends some 
avoided me; others spoke, but with deep reserve. 
I was under suspicion; the toad had croaked; he 
was having his way after all, — but in their open 
dispatches they had chosen to be kind to me, for- 
sooth ! 

“ Oh ! this is dastardly,” said Thrasybulus, echo- 
ing the words of Pericles. “ They have filled the 
city with lying rumours.” 

At length I was called before the senate and put 
under examination. The faces were flinty at first, 
and the questionings harsh ; but I told the full truth, 
bringing witnesses, and Thrasybulus stood by me, 
sputtering with rage, loyal as a brother. The case 
was dismissed : the senators gathered about me 
in murmuring groups, grasping my hand, many 
walking with me through the market. On the street 
the change was no less ; the sad and bitter faces were 
no fewer there, but the blight of their gaze was no 
longer turned on me. Other voices had spoken; 
the men who owed us life were spreading rumours 
now. 

I myself have been blamed for crafty courses. I 
know it only too well — judge not yet. But the 


G O R G O 


43i 


craft that is blood-splashed and soaked with lies is 
a path of slime along a precipice. Not even he who 
goes unwilling, with slow steps, may hold his feet 
upon it, — that too I have learned. Diomedon was 
to learn it ; and Thrasyllus ; even young Pericles. 
Perhaps Socrates spoke true, and wrong is never 
right. 

The people met on the Pnyx, — an assembly full 
of mourners and those in dreadful doubt. The 
generals were summoned back. There was as yet no 
turbulence: Thrasybulus spoke briefly; I said not 
a word. I went home to Gorgo. 

“ See,” she said, “ we are even sitting together in 
the house of Hagnon. And there are here no 
Ephors. Yet I have no jewels but these.” 

“ Wait a little,” I answered. “ Only my wife may 
wear those jewels I shall give to Gorgo.” 

“ And gladly will I wait, Theramnas ; I did but 
wish to be beautiful in your father’s house. But I 
would wish your wife the most beautiful of all, 
Theramnas ; I will have no wife in Athens SO' beau- 
tiful as she — that Ionian Gorgo, whom they drove 
from Sparta — nor any so glad altogether. She 
shall much surpass this maid.” 

“ How ever can you be more beautiful, Gorgo? ” 

“ You shall see,” she cried, “ you shall see, The- 
ramnas.” 

Rhyzon I had loosed from his fetters, but held 
him under strict guard. The Syrian still lay in 
chains, flung in a dark store-room, groaning and 
cursing as he rolled upon the floor, yet begging ab- 


432 G O R G O 

jectly if any came near. I now had him out; he 
could scarcely stand. 

“ Lead,” I said, “ and bring me to Golas.” 

“ Oh, Bel ! ” he chattered. “ Not without oath — 
not if the son of Apollon should crucify. He shall 
swear by his own Apollon.” 

And Apollo — who had seen his deeds — I made 
my witness. I swore that when he had fulfilled his 
promise I would neither harm nor hinder further. 

“ We must have the oars — a six strong oars, for 
it is far. And the noble Athenian will surely keep 
his oath, else Apollon will greatly torment him. The 
place — it is at the Laureion.” 

The mines ! But I assured him I would stand by 
my oath. 

I hired a boat and we coasted down ; it was nearly 
noon when we landed at the dock, pressing in be- 
tween the moored barges. The place was strongly 
garrisoned, but the captain knew and passed me. 

“ The noble Athenian who has sworn an oath will 
ask for Sosias,” said the Syrian. “ It will be neces- 
sary to speak with Sosias. He is of Thrace; he was 
tasker of the slaves for Nicias — it is now his son.” 

The fellow was called, — a man built like a bull, 
red-haired, with a flavour of raw wine about him. 
He was surly at first, but the gleam of a daric mended 
his aspect. 

“ You mean to pay ? For two minas you may have 
any here. Their cost is a mina on the market, but I 
must make good my count and have my profit. It is 
a dog’s task and a rotten lot; they last no better 


G O R G O 


433 

than a eaten of fish in the sun. Here since when, 
say you ? By Deus, he will be but a carcass ; they 
endure not so long. Strong, say you ? The smoke 
of the smelt would blast Hercules ; we change them 
about, but the breath of the pit is not so much better. 
Still, for this daric I will make search; it is beside 
the price, take notice, for the trouble is much and 
the finding unlikely. I have under me above a 
thousand — or had at the last numbering. The 
name — it is no help. They have no names ; they 
go by count. But we will have up the oldest of the 
pack.” 

The Syrian whispered in his ear. “ Him, mer- 
chant ? The silent one? Deus ! I had almost forgot 
that one. He may yet be hacking ; he was so strong 
that we kept him from the furnace for the pit. We 
may find that one: if he were newer you should 
scarcely have him for two minas; but he will be 
a mere rag, and the word is passed.” 

So we climbed by a deep-rutted road into such 
a region of death as I think was never elsewhere; 
even in the sunless realm of Hades, there can be 
no place more hideous. The whole mountain was 
blasted as if by a curse — no weed was vile enough 
to live amid such fumes as wafted there — and all 
over its broken slopes were scattered the furnaces, 
glowing below and reeking from their summits, 
whose black breath was its desolation. These smoke 
streams coiled and writhed in the air like dragons, 
and were as rank with poison. 

“ But for this lift of the wind I would not venture 


G O R G O 


434 

up myself,” remarked Sosias, looking about uneasily. 
“If you see me take a run, hold close.” 

On all sides were branching paths, each leading 
to a furnace or a pit; for the pits were many, and 
led — 

“ Near twenty stades into Hades’ own country, 
some of them,” explained the Thracian. “ They say 
you can hear the boiling of Phlegethon in the 
deepest.” 

We had paused before a perilous flight of stone 
steps, leading steeply down into darkness. “ Will 
you go in, or wait? ” he asked. 

“ We will go in.” And I thrust the Syrian be- 
fore me. 

Sosias called : two weird creatures came up with 
torches, their faces goat-like, with matted hair and 
beard. We followed them through avenues of stone 
and buttressed chambers, I dare not say how far, 
amid shapes that might be ghost or daemon. 

“ O Bel, O Bel, have pity,” groaned the Syrian. 
“Thou shalt have captives; thy altars shall drip.” 

At last we paused where the iron was ringing. 
“ They say he is here,” said Sosias, pointing in at a 
dusky opening. 

“ Golas ! ” I called — “ Golas!” 

The great bar that we had heard churning against 
the rock clanged on the floor. A wild and naked 
thing rushed forth like a spectre; it lay at my feet, 
and I felt the rough cheek rubbing against the thongs 
of my sandal. 

“ Speak, Golas. It is I.” 


G O R 


G O 


43 5 


Sosias laughed. “ He can ill do that ; the tongue 
is cut. Nay, I did it not: what use? So he came 
to me.” 

“ It is not a harm ; it does not spoil,” clamoured 
the Syrian. “ It is a good slave — yes, sound, and 
still so strong; he will obey the better for the cut- 
ting of the tongue.” 

I choked. Then, turning to Sosias, “ Would you 
trade for this Syrian ? ” 

“ Pan ! He is not worth bread.” And again the 
fellow laughed. 

“ Nor would I sell. It is but a jest. I am in 
the humour for jesting, Syrian. Why do you sweat 
so?” 

“ Apollon! There shall be no jest; it is an oath. 
Will you have upon you the curse of Apollon ? ” 

“ Not I. The oath shall be kept — to the very 
letter, like the Syrian’s promise.” 

“ I think I smell sport,” said Sosias. “ But mind, 
I must have the two minas. No jesting there; for 
the rest, command me.” 

“ Rise, Golas,” I said. And — though it was a 
strange thing for Hagnon’s son to do — I put my 
arms about his neck. He caught me up on his 
shaggy breast, and in spite of remonstrance bore me 
so all the way to the light ; while Sosias, I observed, 
kept sharp watch on the Syrian. At length we were 
again by the boat, and the master of the mines had 
his pay. The Syrian quivered with hope and fear 
and weakness ; his state was pitiable, — had he been 
other than he was. 


436 G O R G O 

“ The good youth will keep his oath,” he said, 
from a parched throat. 

“ He will keep his oath — but no haste. Where 
is the bow? ” 

“ I do not know that — I cannot tell. It was not 
bargained.” 

“ No : but you burnt it, perhaps, before the eyes 
of him who stands speechless ? ” 

“ The bow? I do not know.” His eyes wavered. 
“ Who would dare to deal with Golas while there 
was yet the bow ? It is gone. The Syrian does not 
know.” 

‘‘The slave was a good archer?” asked Sosias, 
with interest. “ It is shame to cast such in the 
mines. If you wish me to take up that Syrian 
beast — but at no price, mind — and I see he is 
already branded — ” 

“ May you burn in Moloch — yes, all. It is a 
treachery; you will not keep the oath.” 

He flashed at me with a little dirk, long and .thin, 
like a spindle. How he got it I cannot imagine, but 
I foiled him as if he had been a child with a straw. 

“ Foul offspring of Bel and Moloch,” I cried, in 
a voice which I could control no longer, “ do you 
think to lie and murder and betray, and still to bind 
others by oaths, and by oaths to the gods to evade 
the vengeance of gods and men ? I have sworn — 
and much may it profit you! I will keep all oaths 
and pay all debts — mark me, Syrian. Go ! the hour 
is come, and I have sworn not to hinder. Do you 


G O 


R 


G 


O 


43 7 


understand me, Golas? The man goes free, and 
you are free, — and I have sworn not to hinder.” 

The eyes of the slave sought mine, lifted in savage 
exultation; the Syrian sunk in a helpless sweat of 
terror ; from both throats issued a gurgle. 

“ Only not here,” I said to Golas. 

He crouched like a panther and leaped upon the 
Syrian’s neck, flung him over his shoulder, and in 
such fashion bore him up the hill. Golas had waited 
long. He had now no bow — but he had his hands : 
how he used them was never asked and could never 
be told. And so, no doubt, it was well to leave it 
— untold ; for Golas was not a follower of Socrates, 
nor even a Greek, but a barbarian. He was gone a 
long while, and when he returned he again kissed 
my feet. 


XXXIX. 


A Voice from a Meal - Tub 

T HE assembly met; the generals stood before 
the people. From the prison they came, and 
stood with pallid cheeks and flinching eyes 
before white-haired fathers grieving for their sons. 
I noted that Erasinides was chewing on nothing 
and working his throat ; the face of young Pericles 
was like wetted linen. Would they dare to boast of 
the victory before these ? Or the storm — would 
that serve? They looked down and met the gaze 
of those whom others had drawn from its billowy 
lips, — in whose ears still rang the cries of drown- 
ing comrades. It was not a kindly gaze. 

They were daunted ; the low muttering roar of 
that assembly was more daunting than any storm. 
Battles must needs cost lives : it had seemed so easy 
to explain, — on the little isles of Arginusse. Ly- 
ing, too, seems so easy — yet may grow so deadly 
hard. They had not fared happily before the senate ; 
their words had been heard with impatience. The 
senate, indeed, had commanded me to appear against 
them, bringing my witnesses. 

“ You have made grave charges,” I was admon- 
ished. “ We believe you, and have held these men 
438 


G O R G O 


439 

for trial; but you must bear us out. Besides, they 
will certainly turn the blame on you, and you must 
be ready.” Thrasybulus was warned in like terms. 

I told the main facts very simply. I would not 
enlarge upon them ; the mood of the people was 
dangerous. Thrasybulus spoke more hotly, with a 
convincing heartiness of anger. The assembly 
surged, but there was still no outbreak. 

After this the trick of magnanimity seemed 
wisest. Erasinides answered first and gave them the 
cue. They made no open charges, — these good 
friends of mine ; they had wished — they still wished 
— to spare me. They contradicted me mildly : the 
duty had indeed been assigned me, with ample 
powers, but doubtless the storm was a sufficient 
reason why I had done so little. Perhaps they had 
been unfortunate in their choice, but I was accounted 
a competent officer, and Thrasybulus no less. They 
deemed our conduct fairly excusable, and there- 
fore had not mentioned the matter in their dis- 
patches. That, perhaps, was an error, — and they 
looked at me reproachfully. Thus they spoke, each 
in turn, all to the same effect and with an air of great 
moderation. 

It was a good play; there were really some who 
believed them. Others clamoured for witnesses, — 
and I sent up Meletus. He stood on the bema sway- 
ing a little, his legs set rather wider than was need- 
ful, surveying that sea of upturned faces as one 
who would catch the drift of the weather, but per- 
fectly cool. 


G O R G O 


44 ° 

“ What? Meletus the poet? ” exclaimed a senator 
when the name was announced. 

“ Well, my lad, it may be there is a manner of 
poesy in piloting, as it were. The roll of a heavy 
swell is most like those hexameters, I would say, and 
the whine of the wind has a certain likeness to 
the manner of reciting them by those rhapsodists. 
Yes, lad, I would conceive it is somewhat of that 
nature; for in my present view of it the jogging 
push of the oars is much like the running of those 
courses of speech to the tune of the pipes in the 
theatre, and a storm at sea, I would think, is some- 
thing after the fashion of their choruses. But, 
mark you, I lay no positive claim to the craft of 
poesy, old lad — and you need not bring in the lyre 
for Meletus,” he concluded, eying him sharply. 

“ It is he who expounded the Gorgon’s letter,” 
shouted the crowd. “ Let us hear the pilot.” And 
some began to laugh, though others scowled. 

“ Peace,” said the president. “ Forbear your 
harping, Meletus, and tell the people of the storm.” 

“ Well, lads,” he said, squaring about, “ it blew 
straight down from the Hellespont, and came mainly 
in long rolls. But mark you, I had no fair view of 
it. From the deck I accounted it no great storm 
for a ship well manned and piloted — though I may 
have spraddled a bit for better steadiness, as you may 
see is my wont in uncertain weather; but on that 
merchantman, as it were, of a meal-tub, spinning 
about with no adequate steerage and a swash like 
Phlegethon — ” 


G O R G O 


441 


“ You were saved on a meal-tub? ” 

“ Nay, lads, unless you would account that sal- 
vation which Apollo did to Marsyas — to be skinned 
alive and whipped with brine. I was saved from the 
meal-tub, as I would judge the matter, by a hand-lift 
of this staunch lad, whom I presently steered in, 
with such others as he had taken up, to join the 
generals at their wine. It was but one good turn 
for another, — and a sharp turn, too, as he was 
headed, — a good lad, mind you, though lacking 
direction. But as for the storm, 1 thought it an ill 
storm from the tub, yet found it much abated by a 
hasty swallowing of the rougher part.” 

“ But the wrecks — what of them? ” 

“ Very little of them after I had parted with the 
tub, lads. But while I was dancing the cordax on 
that bucket, the hulks were dancing with me, — yet 
not altogether so merrily. They lay awash with all 
hands on deck, as the manner is on a wreck, heavy 
freighted and spilling off cargo, more or less, at 
each dip ; and the manner of speaking of those lads, 
mark you, would have grieved Nicias. It was of the 
generals they were speaking mainly, as I judged it, 
and by the howling at Styx, it was not in the nature 
of good discipline. I reproved them for it, lads, as 
best I might between gulpings of that Lesbian brine ; 
from a better craft I think it likely I might have 
found them more adequate terms, but my heart was 
with them, lads, and they were mostly weeping. It 
was they who had won the victory, in their own 
conceit of it. They bade me tell you of these things 


442 


G O R G O 


in case the tub should prove seaworthy, but I had 
little thought to see you then, and counselled them 
to await me beside the fall o-f Phlegethon, where I 
would join them, and the generals soon after, it was 
likely, when a dip in that stream might do them 
benefit, as coming chilled with the hemlock, — for 
I made sure, lads, they would have the hemlock after 
their wine. But as I now recall it, I would think 
it possible I spoke in extremity of ill-humour; for 
this word I gave them from a meal-tub, mind you, 
with the swash of the sea in my throat, and a 
manner of suddenness in the rise and fall of it not 
favourable to considerateness of speech, and the cry 
of those drowning lads in my ears as often as the 
water ran out. I have thought since that it was in 
a manner excusable, as they say, for I myself would 
sooner have sat ashore drinking good wine and 
devising with yon Erasinides to cast the blame on 
others, than to be thus bobbing about and choking 
the hold with such a dismaying swill of bilge, listen- 
ing the while to' words so ill of omen. Yet in my 
present view those lads are still waiting yonder, and 
I would not wonder if they were disappointed out of 
all reason, for I could see they were mightily taken 
with the notion of it. I would not like to be the one 
to explain it to them, lads.” 

When he began to speak men were slapping each 
other on the back and chuckling with mirth; the 
silence now was portentous. The dusk was deepen- 
ing fast, and with that and the gloom of their looks 
they seemed an assembly of Nubians. Not an orator 


G O R G O 


443 

lifted his voice : those foundering wrecks were be- 
fore all eyes, those despairing cries filled all ears, 
the whisper of angry ghosts was in every heart. At 
last — 

“ Let the senate prepare articles of impeachment,” 
said the president, “ and determine the order of 
trial, under approval of the next assembly. Is this 
your will? ” 

So it was voted, as if with one voice; but for 
three days nothing further could be done because 
of the festival season. A dismal festival it proved 
that year, — yet it was not so to me. 

“ It is the Apaturia,” I said to Gorgo. “ Now, 
all through Athens, the clans are numbered, and 
kinsmen greet, and those of the same blood banquet 
together. Now babes are christened, and every family 
gathers to salute its own ; and now shall Gorgo- be 
wed, and made the mistress o-f my house.” 

And she said : “ I have no kin, Theramnas, nor 
country, nor anything but you, and am yours 
altogether. And I bring no other dower, Theram- 
nas, but all this Gorgo is she gives you utterly, for- 
ever and forever ; and gladly will she call the gods 
to witness o-f that truth in any hour that you would 
wish her to.” 

“ We have indeed few kin,” I cried, “ and worse 
than none. But neither kin nor lack of kin shall 
hold me from my joy another day, Gorgo — not 
for another day, Gorgo.” 

And although the city was full of inauspicious 


444 


G O R G O 


voices, and a sob as of a rising storm was in 
the streets, I forgot all else but joy and Gorgo. 

No hour could be inauspicious that brought me 
Gorgo 1 . She came into my house as Aurora floats 
over the threshold of night, — a rose-glow shining 
with stars, blushing to brighter radiance, with a 
sweetness like the morning wind that flows from 
glens of bedded violets. It is idle to write such 
words : to others they are meaningless, while to me 
— no loveliness of earth or sky was worth compari- 
son. A lover’s words? Yes, truly — then and 
always these words of mine are the words of Gorgo’ s 
lover. But extravagant I cannot think them; you 
who say it have never known Gorgo. 

So> the pledges sworn in Sparta were fulfilled in 
Athens : the Ephors had spoken ; the Royal Archon 
bit his lip but allowed the record. She was mine — 
our warring cities both had sanctioned it — my very 
wife in the sight of gods and men, and none had 
said me nay. Not Rhyzon — he strove at first to 
bargain, but when his shifty eyes met mine they 
shrunk back into his head, and he stammered such 
words as I bade him. 

It was not a noisy wedding; this was no time 
for the sounding of flutes. As I could not take her 
from her father’s house, I led her from Athena’s 
temple, where she had prayed, as she alone could 
pray, and left her bracelet of pearls at the shrine 
of the goddess. 

“ It shall ever be sacred,” she said, “ and no other 
shall wear it; but she that had it was a silly maid, 


G O R G O 


445 

— and now that I am truly wife of Hagnon’s son 
I would wish that all that is upon me should be 
from him, Theramnas. You shall be paid no price 
for taking this Gorgo,” she laughed, “ but just her- 
self; and is it not enough, Theramnas? ” 

“ It is more than Jove himself possesses,” I an- 
swered her. 

And with that we passed from the dim splendour 
of the temple into the shining light. 

“ Is it not glorious upon this hill ? ” she said. “ It 
is now my Athens, Theramnas. You have given 
me your city, Athenian boy, and Gorgo is no more 
a banished maid, — the fairest city of the world you 
have given for a kiss so long ago<.” 

“ I would give for GorgO' the fair world itself,” I 
whispered to her. And as we wended through the 
sheen of marbles, men with sad, cruel faces paused 
to gaze, and the hard lines softened a little. Thrasy- 
bulus walked beside us, and Golas followed. 

“ O Golas,” she had cried, “ can you indeed no 
more say Gorka? ” 

But he fawned at her feet, and though tongueless 
uttered her name and worship in every limb. When 
the long stairway was reached, that led from the city 
of the gods to the city of men, he would not let her 
sandal press the common earth, but raised her in his 
arms and bore her all the distance to our home. 
We entered ; and Rhyzon, with nothing left of what 
was Spartan in his aspect, again importunate because 
he saw me happy, crept toward me from his huddle 


G O R G O 


446 

in the corner to* plead anew for gold. He clutched 
me round the knees, but I shook him off. 

“ A goatherd’s hut upon the mountains, and a 
single slave,” I cried, “ and a slave’s allowance to 
you both alike for sustenance. There shall you live 
or die, and never shall a breath of you come near to 
Gorgo. King Agis and his troopers will not trouble 
you, I think — yet care not; should the hoofs of 
their horses find you it is but an adder crushed. 
You — you that would have sold your brother’s 
blood into a python’s jaws for slimy darics, that 
you might nurse them in your filth — utter not to 
me another word of money or of mercy, lest I bid 
Golas rend you on this floor. May the Pluton of 
Darkness blast the foul shade within you. It shall 
haunt the reeking marshes, glooming over the 
buried gold-pots it may not finger, blighting with 
curses such as come near.” 

He lay prone, yet lifted his head and answered 
me with frothy imprecations; the Spartan in him 
was not even then quite dead. I regarded him no 
more than the sweepings of the ground on which he 
grovelled, and the servants, dragging him out, made 
such disposal of him as I had ordered. 

“ Indeed, I could almost weep for him,” said 
Gorgo, — “ that man will find the poverty so hard 
to bear. Yet I cannot truly weep for any cause 
this day, Theramnas; and I am glad at heart that 
he is gone forever.” 


XL. 

The Vengeance of the Shades 

C URSE the old baldpate, pull him down ! ” 

“Yea! yea! Shall the people be balked 
of their will ? ” 

“ A dotard ! ” 

“ Canting hypocrite ! ” 

“ His devil prompts him — he would rail to us 
of virtue! ” 

“ Nay, patience! He will but tell us of cobblers ! ” 
“ A foe to the people — ill words always ! ” 

“ Away with him ! ” 

“ To the prison ! ” 

“Yea — and the hemlock ! ” 

“ As guilty as they ! ” 

“Let him share!” 

“ Down with him ! Down ! Down ! We will not 
be balked ! ” 

So roared the assembly, with a tumult as when 
the storm chokes foaming in the narrow strait; 
but he — he stood on the berna as tranquil as one 
who views that tumult from the rocky shore. Soc- 
rates — who else in all Athens could have borne it 
so? 


447 


G O R G O 


448 

“ I will put no vote that is against the laws,” he 
said. “ Let none expect it : I have sworn to obey 
the laws.” The tone was low, but strong and steady ; 
all heard it, even amid such clamour as cowed the 
very onlookers. 

Strange was the turn of fate which made him 
president that day, — the smiling, earnest questioner 
of men, who ever shunned politics and party, heed- 
ing only his god-given mission, the searching of 
souls. It was not by his choice, nor by theirs, that 
he stood before the people thus, in the power and 
peril of office; then, for the first time and the last, 
the daily lottery of the bean had called him to it, 
and then as always he obeyed the established law. 
That he had laughed at such election by the bean, 
and esteemed it folly, did not matter; he obeyed the 
law and took his office, and in that office still obeyed 
the law. That the populace raged was no concern 
of his; their din of cries was but a noise of winds, 
through which he heard another voice; threats fell 
from his tempered courage as darts that blunt against 
a shield. 

He feared nothing, but those who loved him 
feared for his life. The people had come from their 
festival of mourning with anger now raised to a 
fury which would bear no check ; the assembly like 
the feast was sombre with black garments, and pale, 
fierce faces glared from every part. The moment 
was not a happy one for close questionings of justice. 
These men would have vengeance — they were mad 
for victims to appease the shades that haunted them 


G O R G O 


449 

— and woe to him who would speak of obstacles or 
interpose delays ! 

The senate, bending to their will, had reported 
thus : 

Whereas, in a former assembly, all the citizens 
have heard the accusation, and the generals also 
have been heard, let the whole people pass at once 
upon their guilt, voting by tribes. For each tribe shall 
be set two urns: as many as hold the generals guilty 
of abandoning the victors in the fight, let them cast 
their pebbles in the nearer urn; if any think other- 
wise, let them go on to the second. In case of convic- 
tion the Eleven shall lead the condemned to death, 

— their estates to be forfeit, a tithe to be rendered 
to the goddess . 

A few cried out at that : “ It is monstrous — let 
each have separate trial before the courts, with 
formal accusation and defence. This is against all 
law.” 

“Who makes the law?” screamed Callixenus. 
“ Shall not the people rule in Athens?” And he 
made the mob more frantic with frantic speeches. 
He was but a kite, to fly with the wind. In fair 
weather such a kite may soar high, and in a tempest 
yet higher — until the strained string snaps ; then 
kites fall heavily. So fell Callixenus at last; but 
on that day he soared. A great man he deemed 
himself that day — Callixenus ! 

Some threatened him with impeachment, but his 
threat was the louder : “If any will shield the guilty 


G O R G O 


450 

let him be included with them.” The mob echoed 
it ; the protesting voices were hushed. 

So Socrates stood forth, — to put the vote, as 
many thought. “ I will do nothing contrary to the 
law,” he said. “ This thing is unlawful.” 

Then it was that they bellowed with rage, while he 
gazed upon them without a tremor and without 
a frown. 

“ How dare you defy the people?” raved the 
demagogue. “ How dare you make this stand 
alone? ” 

“ I do not stand alone,” he answered, in that mild 
voice which found a path to' every ear. “For with 
me stand those of our ancestors who made these 
laws, and all the good men who have sworn to keep 
them, and the gods to> whom they swore. Are these 
I see more numerous than they, Callixenus, or better 
worth regarding? Is it safer, think you, to defy 
the gods, if they and the people unhappily should 
differ? or did you think Callixenus could seem to 
me so terrible that I would fear him rather than 
the gods ? ” 

While he was speaking I pressed close to the bema ; 
my faith in the gods, I must own, was less, and my 
fear of the people greater. “ Get about him quickly 
and bear him back,” I said to the senators. “ Put 
the vote yourselves, — what matter of a little further 
illegality? Take him off before these wolves have 
set their fangs in him — for they will yelp in vain ; 
he is worth a score of such as the generals and all 
the laws of Solon.” 


G O R G O 


45i 

It was not a time to be dainty of methods : we 
gathered about him and dragged him away with 
gentle force. He sighed, but made no futile resist- 
ance. 

While we were thus engaged the advocate of the 
generals got possession of the bema; a cousin of 
young Pericles was he, and a man of ability. At 
first he stood silent, for the din was overmastering; 
but his aspect was gracious, and he waited patiently 
until a sudden lull permitted speech. 

“ Men of Athens,” he began, “ we yield to your 
will; the proposal from the senate shall be put to 
vote, and we make no further question of illegality.” 
They calmed a little at that. “ But hear also my 
proposal,” he continued, “ and let both be put to 
vote together.” 

Then he moved an amendment, — that the generals 
be remanded to the courts to be tried with all the 
rigour of the ancient law, but each separately, and 
with regular pleadings. “ Let my own cousin be the 
first,” he said. “ I ask, not mercy — only justice.” 
They listened ; but I noted that their faces were un- 
changed. It is not easy to reason with mourners; 
yet he went on. He blamed the generals severely — 
blamed them for undue kindness to me. It had 
seemed hard to accuse a comrade in arms ; they 
had not fully realised the extent of my negligence. 
It was a moment of confusion; they were flushed 
with the victory ; they had not dreamed that I would 
use their clemency to turn the blame on those who 
sought to spare me. Even now they would not ac- 


G O R G O 


45 2 

cuse me harshly. His cousin had pleaded for me; 
the storm was indeed some excuse; all are not en- 
dowed with equal courage. He himself, however, 
felt less compunction ; he would not deny the dead 
their due. But let no mistake be made; it would 
be a matter of regret afterward. 

Oh ! was it not hard to bear ? My heart knotted 
within me as I listened. Yet he spoke with deep 
earnestness, and I think believed his words; for all 
that he knew was from his clients, and one was a 
kinsman. He warmed as the speech went on. 
“ They who have led your ships to victory,” he 
ended, “ whose only fault was excess of zeal and 
thoughtless kindness to an undeserving friend, — 
shall such as they perish by treachery in the city they 
have saved, and not rather be crowned before you 
as victors? ” 

So spoke the orator to scowling brows, and none 
of them was smoothed ; he spoke, I think, some 
words too many. Then Callixenus rushed forward 
to champion the proposal of the senate; he had 
drawn that document with his own important fingers, 
and every term in it was dear to him. When he had 
blustered away the most of his vocabulary, the 
question was put, — but in a tricky fashion. The 
people were bewildered ; some voted twice, and some 
not at all. 

“ The amendment for trial before the courts has 
prevailed,” it was announced. 

Again a roar of anger shook the very bema. “ The 
people have been deceived,” shrieked Callixenus, 


G O R G O 


453 

white with- rage. Yet no whiter than others — the 
cry was appalling. “ Who dares to cheat the 
people? ” 

The chairman lifted his shaking arms for silence. 
“There has been some error,” he stammered; and 
the question was stated anew. 

“ Let all who favour trial before the courts raise 
the right hand.” 

A few palms went up, but dropped quickly. 

“ And all who favour summary judgment by the 
people.” 

The assembly waved with hands like a marsh full 
of flags. While the urns were being set I mounted 
the bema. 

“ Citizens,” I said, “ the mode of trial has been 
determined; I speak not of that.” 

“ Aye! ” they shouted, “ that is decided.” 

“ But because these men have made me more in- 
famous than any other who drinks Apollo’s light, I 
must speak.” 

“ We believe them not, Theramenes,” called many 
voices. “ Aye, lad ! Those poor ghosts that are 
warming their cold shins by Phlegethon shall have 
sport after all,” called another, hoarsely. 

“ Peace to those shades : they whisper not of me. 
Yet I would they might speak — for they too saw 
me, what I did. You would hear from them the 
same witness as from those who almost shared their 
fate, yet owe life to the hand of the coward The- 
ramenes — whom the generals would spare. But 


454 G O R G O 

their tongues are still : the generals have spoken for 
them — the generals ! ” 

“ Nay. lads — I will speak for them if you mind 
not the omen of ill words.” But none laughed. 

“ Do you doubt that the generals heard them 
aright? It was somewhat far to hear. Then hear 
from me that was upon the spot the voices of the 
living and the dead — nay, you have heard the liv- 
ing; I will speak for the dead alone. 4 We lay low 
in the sea/ they are saying — only you cannot 
hear — 4 and the brine was close to our lips. The 
last we saw of earth was this Theramenes gathering 
lives from the swelling waves, — Theramenes and 
Thrasybulus. We had hoped they would reach us, 
but they could not ; yet had the rest been like them, 
not one among us would have slept that night in the 
salty ooze.’ These are the words they speak: I 
swear it by the gods above, who saw, and by the 
gods who listen to their murmuring ghosts below. 

‘ But,’ they say, ‘ we saw nothing of Erasinides — 
nor of Aristocrates — nor of Thrasyllus — nor of 
any general of them all.’ And who among living 
men will tell you that he was saved by Erasinides? ” 
I cried, — “ by Erasinides, who grieves that The- 
ramenes performed his unbidden task so ill, and 
with one ship saved so few ! ” 

The deep-drawn breath of many throats was the 
only sound. 

“ Yet they also offer you witnesses — their own 
pilots! Their pilots, who with pallid faces tell you 
the storm was too terrible for the saving of lives, — 


G O R G O 


455 

and with the next breath blame two ships for leaving 
any unrescued ! * We saw not these, either/ say 
the dead. 4 They were on the shore, with their 
generals, while we were sinking.’ And so say the 
living, who found them there, drinking while com- 
rades drowned. But the pilots think me at fault: 
now as then, they are with the generals.” 

The voting-urns were already placed, but none 
stirred. 

“ Will you, then, hear more? I grieve to say 
more, for their advocate tells me they are my friends 
— and what they would have done had they been 
enemies I fear to think. This is the climax of their 
friendship. They say — these good friends of mine 
and yours, whose brows should be wreathed for the 
victory won by the dead — they say that they gave 
me ships, and strict orders, and ample powers, these 
men whose only fault is generosity! But when? 
The dead, perhaps, do not know of that, but the 
living will tell you. It was when I had left the 
sea voiceless, and the storm had done its worst. 
Then they called me before them, still wet, and 
weary with the toil of saving. 4 The very man/ 
said my good friend Erasinides ; ‘ he has chosen the 
task — let him have it.’ Then it was that they is- 
sued those undated orders, and offered ships with 
a scoff, and planned a letter. Was it grace to me 
that they flinched in the writing of it? Do I owe 
them thanks that they faltered in their lies? 

“ Now go to the urns : yet remember this, that 
they stand confessed. If I am guilty and they 


G O R G O 


456 

sought to shield me, they are traitors ; if they alone 
are guilty, and sought by lies to you to impute their 
guilt and shame to others, they are doubly traitors. 
Go now to the urns, with the eyes of those you 
cannot see upon you, and cast your ballots as you 
will.” 

They voted in. silence; a hush was upon them, 
as of those that listen. Few there were who passed 
on to the second urn. 


XLI. 


A Last Talk with Socrates 

A FEW days after this I had my last long 
talk with Socrates. We spent, indeed, many 
hours together, walking- through shattered 
sunshine and quivering shadow under the Academic 
olives, whither I had lured him. Only for him 
would I have lingered so long away from Gorgo-; 
but I loved him second to her alone, and the hum 
of bees and the leafy fragrance were like childhood 
to me, and sweet to my soul. Yet the tombs of the 
Ceramicus, through which we had passed on our 
way, had started our train of thought. The generals 
will not be buried here, I had said in my heart ; and 
to him — 

“ You blame me, Socrates, I know. And to me 
what you did seems folly. We cannot agree in 
this.” 

“ We have never agreed in this,” he said. And 
our thoughts flew far back through lapsing years. 
“ You hold, like other men, that taking life is bet- 
ter than to lose it ; so it seemed to the little son of 
Hagnon when I bore him in my arms between those 
walls, and so it seems to you to-day beneath this 
grove: but to me it has never seemed so.” 

457 


G O R G O 


458 

“ You blame me, Socrates. Because of Antiphon 
and the generals, you think me murderous. That 
Syrian, too, I have slain.” 

“ The Syrian ! ” He seemed startled. “ Had that 
evil thing been spared so long? I will not judge 
between you and the Syrian, for his life was forfeit 
by the laws of gods and men, and a bane to others 
while it lasted. Nor do I think you murderous, 
Theramenes, nor even cruel ; you love not blood nor 
injustice. But ruthless of the lives that cross your 
deeper purposes I fear you are. Beware, lest you 
find it too easy to kill, and too hard to bring back 
to life.” 

“ How else can any play at games with living 
pieces,” I cried, “ or hope to win in politics or war? 
But you, too, Socrates, were ruthless, both with 
the people and to yourself.” 

“ Yes,” he said, smiling, “ and ruthless to the 
generals most of all ; for if the truth must be con- 
fessed, I thought them worthy of a harsher fate. 
It was a great good fortune for the generals to 
owe their death to lawlessness and rage; they died 
the martyrs of a broken law who should have paid 
its penalty. But so injustice frustrates its own 
intent : the unjust death they died will be remem- 
bered, and the justice of the death they should have 
died will be forgotten. I would have been more 
severe with the generals; I would even have sen- 
tenced them to live on in their infamy. But you 
ioined with the rest in slaying them and doing them 
honour.” 


G O R G O 


459 

“ Indeed, Socrates,” I said, “ your views are not 
practical. Such manners as you teach might be 
good in that good age called the golden, but are 
ill suited to this evil time in which we live. For 
my own part, when I am struck I must strike back, 
as best I may with tongue or steel, even as my 
ancestors have done before me.” 

“And did your ancestors do no wrong?” he 
asked, — “so that for you it is enough to be like 
them.” 

“ Truly, Simonides was right,” I cried. “ It is 
not possible for any man not to do evil.” 

“ In politics, at least,” said Socrates, “ and if he 
values life more than right.” 

“ To be squared in every angle like the builder’s 
marble is not human,” I persisted. “ I will not 
give my life to an idle ideal.” 

“ You will give your life for Athens, Theram- 
enes,” he said very gently. “ Your soul is truer 
than your tongue — and this I have told you be- 
fore.” 

“The end,” I asked, — “is it now so near?” 
And my heart was suddenly sad. 

“ I think it is not far away,” he answered. 

“ Oh, Socrates ! ” I exclaimed, earnestly, “ I have 
found her — Gorgo, whom the voice promised me. 
She is now my own, my wife — and you tell me that 
the end of all is near.” 

“ Did you not find her,” he said, “ in the path 
of duty? Still keep in the path of duty, and all 
shall be well with you at last.” 


460 G O R G O 

“ But Gorgo? I care nothing for the rest with- 
out Gorgo.” 

“ Though you should lose your Gorgo for a sea- 
son, if that be true and of the soul itself which 
binds you in one, the great circle of time will bring 
her back to you.” 

“ You believe it, Socrates? I shall see her again 
— after death ? ” 

“ I believe it,” he answered. 

But I pondered upon my doom as the voice had 
once spoken it — my doom, that was now so near — 
and of all those weary cycles of waiting, and of 
the brand of infamy upon my name. And my heart 
wept within me, and my soul rebelled. 

“ Tell me, Socrates,” I demanded, “ can any man 
do otherwise than as it is fated ? ” 

“ If he could,” he answered, “ it would not be 
fated.” 

“ Then,” I said, “ we but act our parts, and our 
lives are but a tragedy written by fate; we but 
seem to be punished, like the tyrant of a play, for 
crimes that we feign to commit because it is so 
written down for us. There is neither good nor 
evil, nor joy nor pain, but only fate and feigning. 
It is all a delusion that we truly do or suffer any- 
thing, and Apteryx was right, and the gods are 
useless.” 

Then he said, “ You have been in Syracuse, The^ 
ramenes.” 

“ It was fated so, I suppose : I could not choose.” 


G O R G O 


46 1 

“ And you have doubtless heard of Arethusa, 
who from a maid became a fountain, as they say.” 

“ I have heard the tale: what of that? ” 

“ I am old, and perhaps grow dreamy and fanci- 
ful. But let us suppose a strange thing. Let us 
fancy Theramenes changed in that same fashion to 
a fountain, yet still alive and conscious of his course, 
and then consider how it would seem to him.” 

“ It is, indeed, a strange fancy, Socrates. But 
we will suppose it so.” 

“ Suppose, then, you were the spirit of yonder 
fountain. Would you not leap up with joy because 
of some power within you that prompted you to 
leap, so that it would be your choice to leap in 
the sun ? ” 

“ It would seem so.” 

“ And when you had leaped to your limit of 
strength, you would fall back, like one weary, and 
wish to rest in the quiet o-f the pool.” 

“ I suppose so, Socrates.” 

“ And in doing this you would act according to 
your nature, as being a fountain, and nothing ex- 
cept your own nature and the force within you 
would compel you to it ; yet you could not do other- 
wise.” 

“ So it seems, in truth.” 

“ And now observe the little rivulet that flows 
from the fountain, and let your spirit flow within 
it. Does it not say to itself, * I will here run swift 
and straight, because the slope is plain and easy,' 
and does it not in this obey its own impulse and 


G O R G O 


462 

do its pleasure? But yonder it hesitates before a 
rock, and ponders on which side to pass, and pres- 
ently chooses the easier way because its mood is 
soft and yielding; yet in another place, because it 
is there more full of energy, it does not pause or 
turn at all, but rushes upon the stones and breaks 
over them. And both times, being alive, it would 
think, ‘ I do my will, as nearly as my strength and 
the rocks and the ground permit ; ’ yet all the while, 
how could it do otherwise, being what it is? And 
so might not one who knew well its nature, and the 
ground over which it must flow, know also what 
course it would take, yet constrain it in nothing?” 

“ And is it so, Socrates, that the gods foresee 
our fate, and even warn us with voices, yet have 
not ordained it thus nor doomed us to that fate? ” 

“ Can you doubt it, Theramenes? Is not all that 
is true of the spirit of the stream true also of the 
soul that is within you? That, too, obeys its im- 
pulse and does its will according to its strength, 
and ever chooses its course according to its nature, 
yet being what it is cannot do otherwise than as it 
does. For to do otherwise would be to violate its 
own nature, and no longer to do its will. So, and 
so only, the soul is subject tO' fate.” 

“ Then,” I said, “ how can any give help or guid- 
ance to another ? ” 

“ It would be little use,” he answered, “ if the 
soul were forced. Yet another might well remove 
obstacles, and clear the path and make it straight, 
so that the rivulet will choose to follow it; and 


G O R G O 


460 

by adding to its waters he might swell the stream 
and give it greater strength ; or he might hinder 
and choke it with sand or mud, as some make foul 
the souls of others.” 

“Yet once — do you not remember, Socrates? 
— you told me that no other could truly harm the 
soul that in itself is good and pure.” 

“ The waters of the soul may ever run clear and 
sweet again,” he said, “ despite all the mud that 
can be cast upon them, unless their own nature is 
brackish and bitter, like the soul of Apteryx, as I 
fear. A soul like his indeed lives in a world of phan- 
toms, but all its delusions are in itself and not in 
the things that are. Such a man as Apteryx walks 
amid realities yet lives in dreams — ill dreams — 
and his soul can never be awakened till the body 
sleeps. I grieve for Apteryx.” 

“But the gods? What of them, Socrates?” 

“ Do you think, Theramenes, that in your body 
there is a soul, which alone gives it life and keeps 
it from dissolution, but that in all this universe, 
so instinct with life and full of the shapings of 
thought, there is no soul to dwell in it and make 
use of all its forms as the soul within you uses the 
body? Do you not know that without the soul, 
which animates its every part, and which men call 
God by many names, this strange and splendid uni- 
verse would speedily dissolve into the mindless chaos 
of its elements, even as the body falls to formless 
dust when the soul has left it? ” And as he spoke 
these words, it seemed to me as if that very spirit 


G O R G O 


464 

were speaking by his lips. None other but Socrates, 
of all I ever knew, could have spoken so. 

“ Do you think,” he went on, “ that your eye can 
see to the limits of heaven, and your thoughts can 
leap in an instant from Syracuse to Babylon or 
from deep Tartarus to high Olympus, and yet that 
the eye of God cannot see all in a single glance, 
and his mind know all that is or was or ever shall 
be? Know, too, that he lifts the souls of men, as 
many as will look upon him, as the sun draws up 
the waters from the earth; and that which rises 
thus is but their purest essence, for the slime and the 
salt and the bitterness are all left behind. Even 
the soul of that unhappy Apteryx, when the evil 
body that cases it has fallen away, may see this light 
that shines down from heaven, and at last be sweet- 
ened in its rays.” 

And so, all day, we talked of these and other 
things, with the cry of the birds above us and the 
spraying of the fountain spreading its whisper 
around us. It was late, and the firmament hung 
low with stars, when I went back to home and 
Gorgo. And she met me jewelled like the drooping 
sky. 


XLII. 


A Sigh of the Wind 

F OR Gorgo might wear her jewels now, — “ all 
of them, all day, and all the days,” with none to 
hinder. She arrayed herself in these, and 
draped her loveliness in shimmering robes and filmy 
tissues, with a bubble of girlish mirth and a joyous 
eagerness, as of one who had long desired such out- 
ward symbols of her beauty, and claimed them as 
her heritage, but had long been denied. 

On the morning after our wedding I had poured 
my mother’s jewels in her lap; also those other:, of 
newer fashion which I had made ready against her 
coming, — for in the end I had not cast them in 
the sea. 

“ And indeed, it is well that you did not do that 
thing,” she cried, when I told her. “ Are they not 
the most beautiful, — even beyond those of Ionia, 
with which I angered — oh, Theramnas — those 
old men in Sparta ! ” And we both laughed merrily 
over the memory of that, for Sparta and its joyless 
gloom seemed far away. 

“ But how dared you, Gorgo? ” 

“ They were mine, Theramnas, from my mother, 
465 


G O R G O 


466 

— my own mother’s jewels; and I, too, had always 
worn them, from a little girl. They teach that van- 
ity very early in Ionia — for I know, Theramnas, 
you think me vain; but truly, that is the better 
way, if one is pretty and meant for jewels, and noth- 
ing comes O'f waiting but the loss of beautiful days.” 
And a trace of the old defiance rang in her tone. 

“ Do you think me an Ephor of Sparta, Gorgo? 
For my own part, I think it as right for a woman 
to be vain as for a man to love her for it ; and 
surely you know that I love Gorgo from her dim- 
pled ear to the toe that peeps from her sandal, — 
and jewels, too, for her sake.” 

“ Do you truly love me so,” she said, demurely, 
“ and even the vanities for which I have been re- 
proved? ” 

“ Did ever Jove himself blame Hera for her van- 
ity,” I cried, “ and not rather find his sombre spirit 
brightened by it? And who but Gorgo wastes the 
shining hours, with a lap full of jewels?” 

“ Now that is very rightly said. And since you 
have spoken so of Jove, I will indeed array myself 
like Hera; and you shall love me the more, The- 
ramnas, and be more faithful than Jove.” 

I laughed at the deftness of her swift, adorning 
fingers. “ Gorgo! Gorgo! How ever could I love 
you the more or the less for jewels? Yet I like that 
you love them.” 

“ And how could I not ? But surely, boy, you 
like me the better so? ” She turned toward me an 
ear that blushed as red as coral as it trembled with 


G O R G O 


467 

its jewel. “ See,” she said, “ I have missed those 
most of all; I am glad you remembered. They 
say that all the Athenian women wear them, and I 
would seem strange without those.” 

“ O Goddess Gorka, you will ever seem strange, 
for none is like you. Yet jewels are but the lamps 
of beauty, Gorgo; they illumine, but they cannot 
make it. They illumine ugliness no less; they can- 
not change it.” 

“ Then,” quoth she, tossing her head till the new- 
found jewels, necklace and circles and coronet, 
danced about her laughing face, “ this Gorgo may 
surely have her sparkling lamps, — and she was 
right to defy the Ephors. Indeed I am vain, The- 
ramnas, like Hera, and if I were not very, very sure, 
perhaps I might be jealous, like her, too ; but not 
proud, nor ever solemn, like that goddess ” — and 
she laughed out, for mere gladness. 

Then she made as if she would leave me, but 
turned suddenly and stood before me like the starry 
sky-queen in very truth, from Jove’s own house. 
“See!” she cried. “Is it not this Gorgo’s right 
to wear jewels? ” And Lycurgus himself could not 
have denied it to her in that hour. 

“ Golas could never have held that arrow strained 
against my heart so long if he had seen me thus,” 
she exclaimed, triumphantly. And then, as if by 
some swift magic, the abashing goddess was gone, 
and Gorgo, sweet and humble, sat upon my knee, 
an arm about my neck, a light hand caressing my 
chin. 


G O R G O 


468 

“ You great, slow-witted, sighing Jove,” she 
whispered, “ is it not all for you, even if I were 
that very Hera? Nor need you look at me with such 
a face of prayer, Theramnas : it is yours to love 
this Gorgo, and keep her always, — it is not for you 
to worship Gorka, like Golas. Poor Golas — that 
is still Gorka’s helot, yet never can speak those 
words again ! But he has a comfort now ; I think 
he would laugh aloud in some strange fashion if he 
could. Have you seen him with his new bow, The- 
ramnas? It is finished, and he smiles upon it and 
strokes it like some wild thing that licks its cub. 
You would scarcely know that bow from the old.” 

I had been to much trouble, seeking a bow for 
Golas. I had laid before him the best that could 
be bought, but they snapped in his hands like rushes ; 
he flung down the fragments and looked at me 
dumbly. We were both near despair, when there 
came in one day a shipload of arms, gathered from 
some far-off battle-field, — strange pieces of ar- 
mour, mildewed and dinted, shields leaf-shaped and 
made of hairy hides, curved swords with hacked 
edges, bent spear-heads with only splinters cling- 
ing in the socket, and pikes six cubits long but 
headless. Upon one of these Golas pounced eagerly ; 
he grinned with joy and kissed the wood. 

“ Why do you thus bring splinters and fagots 
across the sea ? ” I asked of the trader. 

“ I know not,” he answered. “ These were flung 
on with the rest — an ill bargain. Your slave is 


G O R G O 469 

perhaps of that country, and the wood brings back 
memories.” 

“ It may be — and for my slave I will take the 
stick at an obol. Trimmed, it will serve as a staff.” 

He scanned me curiously. “ Two obols,” he said, 
“ since it has come so far.” 

We bore it home; I could scarcely keep back 
Golas from running. For days he sat in his lodge 
scraping with flints; and when he had done, and 
a cord of hard-twisted gut was upon it, the new 
bow rang and sprung like the old. Then Golas, 
I think, forgot that he had no tongue. 

I, too, rejoiced, for Golas with his bow was a 
good companion in those days. I had many enemies 
now, and they were such as have few scruples. 
They had even got the upper hand in the senate, 
and when the people elected me to the new board 
of generals, the senators debarred me from office 
on I know not what charges. I cared little — not 
enough to make an answer ; it was not my wish to 
leave Athens. How often since have I thanked the 
gods for this malice of my foes! The great crime 
of the Hellespont, at least, none can charge against 
me. And I could not have prevented it; had I 
sailed I should have been outvoted and helpless 
amid those- traitors. I was spared — by those who 
hated me. 

But Golas, with bow and quiver, always followed 
when I walked abroad with Gorgo. For we often 
walked together, though many stared. I would not 
keep her shut in dusky rooms like other wives ; she 


470 


G O R G O 


should not weave and spin away the precious hours 
that still were left us, — a companion of slaves 
and a plyer of the weary shuttle. She loved the 
light, and no custom should bar her from it. 

“ Oh ! ” she cried, one day, as we were passing- 
through the market, “it is she; it is that very 
woman. I have seen her so often in dreams.” She 
herself had stopped abruptly. 

My look went after hers, and I saw — Myrinna. 
Yet it was not the Myrinna that I remembered. 
She stood in the open square with a group of youths 
about her, — a mad light in her eyes, and on her 
face the hard, ugly smile of a woman who has made 
her last bargain with the powers of evil, as she 
glanced from Gorgo to me. Even Thrasybulus 
could not have loved her thus. 

“ It is she — I have seen her in dreams,” re- 
peated Gorgo. “ But I think now it does not matter 
of her in the least, Theramnas.” And she held fast 
to my arm. 

Golas, ever watchful of his Gorka, had strained 
the bow, and his eyes questioned us. 

“ Nay, Golas,” I said, “ slack the string. Though 
it indeed looks venomous, that thing yonder is quite 
harmless now.” 

For so I thought — perhaps with some excess 
of confidence, except as Socrates might have spoken 
the words, with a meaning deqDer than mine. Such 
as Myrinna are never harmless long; yet their hate 
is better than their love, — though the two, in truth, 
are one. But with GorgO' clinging thus upon my 


G O R G O 


471 

arm, Myrinna was less than the flitting shadow of 
a cloud. 

So passed the days and the months; almost a 
year had passed, — the happiest of all I ever knew 
in Athens. The rains of winter had only brought 
us flowers; the spring had brought the song of 
birds; the season of harvest was near. 

It was evening ; I sat with Gorgo under the vines 
of the inner court, with only these and the stars 
above us, for the night was warm. 

“ Do you remember,” I was saying, “ the warning 
that once you spoke in Sparta, — when you told me 
that if ever you should come to> dwell in Athens the 
city would not long be free? Yet I was not 
affrighted, Gorgo, — and you are here, and Athens 
still is free, and even Lysander flees before her 
fleet.” 

“Is that Lysander again in Ionia?” she asked, 
with a jar of the voice as when a silver goblet is set 
hard on the board. 

“Yes — or rather he has now fled up the Helles- 
pont, where he lies close, beneath protecting walls. 
They call Aracus admiral, but Lysander rules all.” 

“ He would indeed rule all,” she answered. 

“ Listen ! ” I cried. “ Surely a storm is rising. 
It is pleasant here, but we must now go to our 
chambers. The hour is late ; it is time to slumber.” 

The night- wind was blowing softly up from the 
sea, but it came with a moan that neither sea nor 
wind could utter, — low, uncertain, ebbing away to 


472 


G O R G O 


nothing in the ear, still sounding in the heart. It 
seemed an echo of my earliest memories, 

“It is like the voice of the plague. Gorgo! it 
is like the sound I heard, in this very place, when 
I was but a child and Athens mourned her dead.” 

“ It is like those voices of boding, Theramnas, 
which sometimes the gods make to sound in the 
sky. Oh, what can it mean — it seems so sad, The- 
ramnas ? ” 

Again it filled the air, swelling louder now, yet 
wavering with the breeze that wafted it. 

“ Gorgo, it is from the port — some tidings — ” 

“Tidings! Like that!” 

And even while we spoke it grew, — a mounting 
cry of many voices, melted by distance into one 
continuous wail. It came toward us like the noise 
of sudden rain; it moaned through the Long Walls ; 
it resounded within the gates. Doors clashed; the 
streets about us were full of footsteps and calling. 
Then from a dirge it rang out articulate: 

“ Lysander has taken the fleet ; the war is ended ; 
Athens is lost.” 


XLIII. 


L 


My Promise to Gorgo 

AD, it was just sheer treachery in my view 
of it.” 

Meletus had steered in the Paralus, which 
brought the news; it had come alone. He stood 
before me absolutely sober, his great face blanched 
and traces of tears upon it ; his state was so unnat- 
ural that I gave him wine at once. He drank, but 
with little zest. 

“ Rank treason and sheer misdirection, lad,” he 
continued, after a heavy gulp at the flagon. “ That 
man-eating Lysander — and may he drink of Phleg- 
ethon — had all the gold of Sardis in his pouch ; 
and with the cursed missteering of the villainy you 
call politics at home it was enough. The city is 
merely wrecked for lack of a sufficient pilot of those 
tubby little voting-urns. Why did you not lay hold 
of the sweeps, lad ? ” 

I could have given many reasons; but I thought 
of the reason — and was angry with myself and 
her. For the moment Athens was all; my heart 
had room for nothing else; Gorgo seemed Spartan 
and a snare. 


473 


G O R G O 


474 

“ Lad,” he went on, gloomily, “ we had the ad- 
vantage of ships; and he gathered us up like an 
armful of oars. We lay facing — the channel was 
not above a fifteen stades, I would say — he with 
wine and com behind, and we on a bare beach. He 
would not come out and fight, mind you; he was 
afraid, in our conceit of it. So, while we were 
mostly abroad gathering in the rations, he bethoug'ht 
himself to> come across and take us. He came with 
a terrifying suddenness of action, lad, and I would 
surmise he had been watching ; of nine score ships, 
but ten of us were manned.” 

“ Then all is at an end, Meletus. The last gold 
is gone; temples and houses are empty. No more 
keels will be laid; if they were, there are few left 
fit to man the benches. But did none in all the fleet 
cry out against this recklessness? ” 

“ Well, lad, it might be there was more or less 
speech of the fire-fork and other matters by one 
observant of the rules of the craft. And that Alci- 
biades — whom I would deem a very adequate com- 
mander, were it not that his wine excites him out of 
measure — he came down from his fortress to give 
them good words; but they cast back at him with 
unseaworthy fruit and ill answers. Conon, too, 
upbraided with them and held himself ready — he 
alone. But I thought him overtimorous.” 

“ Timorous ! how ? ” 

“ Well, I would not speak hardly of him. As 
we fled — the ten of us — we passed the beach 
where their sea-sails lay drying; and he, being well 


G O R G O 


475 

counselled, put to shore and took them off, which 
was the better for our chances, though not without 
risk. There were near two hundred ships behind, 
lad, and they might well spare us a sufficient squad- 
ron for some annoyance. But when I pressed that 
young man to turn back against them he would 
not. Yet I told him plainly it was our only hope. 
4 Mark you,’ I said to him, ‘ we have only to sink of 
them, say ten each, and we shall then fight them 
with some chance of winning.’ But he would not, 
and made off hastily for Cyprus — which I account 
in a manner timid, yet blame him not. There was 
scant prospect in it, lad, and it may be I was vexed 
out of all soberness of judgment.” 

He had grown almost cheerful as he spoke of 
this, but the glum look returned. “ You are right, 
lad. This is the end of it. We are caged : they will 
presently block us by sea and land; the matter of 
bread will soon settle it. We shall eat but little, and 
at the end wash it down with a draught of Styx; 
but by the Son of Jove’s Thunder, I will drink the 
wine while I may.” And the flask went empty. 

So Lysander came — without haste — driving in 
upon us the fugitives from every quarter to make 
our hunger the more. The sea was shut, and half 
the ships that hung upon our coast had been our 
own ; Agis marched down from the hills and 
watched our wall. At first our mood was wolfish ; 
we would listen to no terms ; we rent such as dared 
suggest surrender. 

“ I myself felt within me something of that val- 


G O R G O 


476 

iancy while the jars were full,” remarked Meletus, 
“ but this moderate diet of beans dealt out by count 
promotes moderation in thinking.” 

At length, when the time seemed ripe, I went 
before the people. “ Send me to Lysander,” I said, 
“ with power to treat.” Then, as some began to 
threaten — “You shall not be slain nor sold; you 
shall have peace and bread. Even the walls I hope 
to save. I know the Spartan and have a plan.” 

“ The plan — tell us the plan,” demanded many. 

“ Did Lysander tell his plan on the Hellespont ? ” 
I retorted, hardily. “ To deal with him I must be 
as free of hand.” 

They shouted with anger; the very mention of 
the Hellespont maddened them. 

“ If I tell my plan I have no plan,” I insisted. 
“ Do you think there are no traitors here ? Do' you 
not know that all is heard in yonder camp? It is 
yours to choose ; but unless you trust me wholly 
I can do nothing.” 

. “Is it not Theramenes?” called voices. “The 
shrewdest planner in Athens ! Who else can out- 
plot the plotters? A true friend of the people! 
He will save the walls.” 

“ Do I not leave hostages among you? ” I cried. 

“Aye! ” they answered; for all Athens knew of 
Gorgo. “Aye! you shall go> unquestioned. You 
shall save the walls. We will trust Theramenes.” 
And though many still protested, I was sent — to 
Lysander. With Athens in my hand I went before 
Lysander, — and in that Athens was Gorgo. 


G O R G O 


477 

I had left her with Golas and Meletus; these, at 
least, I could trust, and I made all possible provision. 
She cared little for jewels now; she had found 
better. Despite the terror of the time she was very 
happy, for I left her cooing soft Dorian lullabies 
over our new-born babe. I had left hostages in- 
deed. 

So I made my way through the lines with flag 
and trumpet, and stood in the presence of Lysander. 
I found, not him I remembered, but a seasoned chief- 
tain, hard and fierce, with more than Medish craft 
and more than Spartan arrogance. A man to whom 
cities were but counters on a draught-board, crime 
but a move in the game, slaughter but the lifting 
off of pieces ; a man who had made a Persian prince 
his instrument and lavished revenues to- buy his 
ends; an associate of the worst in Hellas, who 
feared him and did his bidding as worse than they. 
Greater than Sparta he deemed himself, and so he 
seemed to others. My heart sunk; my plans crum- 
bled to powder. To him I must plead for Athens 
— and for Gorgo. 

Yet he met me with a measure of contemptuous 
friendliness. “ So it suits me,” he said. “ You are 
the man of them all whom I would have come before 
me thus.” He laughed harshly. “ It soothes a 
slight stinging of the brow to see you bending, 
Athenian. But come — I owe you thanks. To you 
I paid fortune’s forfeit — to you flung one worthless 
bloom from a garden of weeds, — and all Plellas 
quails before Lysander.” 


G O R G O 


478 

He frowned so savagely that I blenched, yet saw 
at once that his mood was merely playful — for 
Lysander. I told my mission; I laid before him 
my plans with all my art ; I begged hard for Gorgo 
and Athens. 

“ Weary me with no more words of the girl,” 
he said, roughly. “ That folly you plucked from 
my path, and I wish you joy of it; the rest is 
your own affair. Your city is mine. You have 
paid a good price for your Gorgo.” His eyes 
blazed, and he sneered a smile. “ As for your peo- 
ple, save them, or some of them, if they will let 
you; I care not. The change of government you 
propose, in my interest as you say, is not yours to 
offer but mine to dictate. Still, the scheme seems 
well devised and suits my purpose; you shall be 
my agent if you will do my bidding, and make what 
you may of it. But the walls go flat ; I have sworn 
it to fortune and vowed it tO' vengeance.” 

I entreated him ; I almost clasped his knees. He 
triumphed for a moment to see me so humbled, then 
grew impatient. “ Spare me the walls,” I prayed 
him, “ spare me the walls, Lysander,” as if he had 
been an angry god. “ The rest we may compass by 
management, but unless the walls are spared I can- 
not bring the people to submit. They will defy you 
to the last.” 

“ What is that to me? ” he answered, coldly. 
“ My men are eager for the pillage; you know 
what comes when a city falls by assault. It is your 
own affair.” 


G O R G O 


479 

And still I persisted, for I saw no other hope. 
“They are mad; they will sooner die than yield 
the walls. And how will massacre serve your own 
ends, Lysander? You will have but a ruin of scat- 
tered stone, where you might have held a subject 
city.” 

“Gods of the black House of Hades!” he ex- 
claimed, “ how dare you set your will against Ly- 
sander thus ? Do' you think I put to the knife three 
thousand of your captive citizens upon the Helles- 
pont, to scruple over the rest ? And yet — the blood 
spilled yonder is enough. Hear me — this is the 
utmost, and no other from Athens should have had 
so much. The wall of your Upper Town I spare 
you, so it be held for Lysander. That about Piraeus 
falls, and of the part between ten stades. Did you 
think I would leave you ports and walls, like spear 
and shield, to turn against me? Urge me further 
and I will drive this iron through your body. I 
have spoken.” 

I knew well that the limit was reached : to ask 
more was to lose all. When he saw me acceding, 
his frown relaxed ; yet he went on with cruel words : 

“ Remember, if you let it come to storm and 
massacre, your Go>rgo will fare like others. But 
observe, I would not have you lose her, lest the luck 
turn. So use your cleverness; keep your country- 
men from running upon my pike-heads, for then 
nothing can save them. I will give you a hint. 
Leave your madmen to their diet for a season ; an 
empty stomach soon purges madness. Linger here 


G O R G O 


480 

for a change of the moon; or stay by Lysander’s 
detention — it will sound the better in Athens. See, 
I would serve you, now that you bend to my will.” 

So I waited — I had little choice — through days 
of anguish to me and the city I sought to save. 
“Not yet,” the hard Spartan said each morning. 
And Gorgo? I was in torment. At last Meletus 
came to me. 

“ How and why have you come? ” I demanded. 
“Tell me of Gorgo.” 

But his answer seemed evasive. “ Well, lad, I 
thought you might be wishing news from within.” 

“ Speak it out quickly.” 

“ I came a rough course, mind you ; it was like 
the bringing in of those horses through the surf. 
At the first these lads here were for sending me back 
to help on the famine; but when I had told them 
it was I who sunk that Ariston and their Hermon, 
and that you, to whom I came, had done them 
damage scarcely less notable, then they let me pass. 
They admired me, lad, and you too were lifted 
in their estimation. They are more receptive than 
I would have surmised, being Spartan.” 

“ Meletus, I am bound on the wheel.” 

“We are all on the wheel, mark you, and our 
joints are cracking. Doubtless you know your own 
courses, lad, but I would call it a slow navigation. 
I am sick with the tales I hear — sick, lad : I mean 
Meletus. I mind not that some ate of rats by the 
dock, — I myself have eaten of those vermin in 
cases of wreckage. But have you heard of him that 


G O R G O 


48 1 

ate — god’s fire- fork, lad, I would leave the relish 
of it to old Cronus, and such as have divinity to 
excuse it. Or of him who drew blood from his 
wrist to convey it t6 his stomach? Why can they 
not starve quietly, and have done? ” 

“ But Gorgo? She is more to me than thousands. 
The rest are but beasts, with teeth and a maw.” 

“ Little use of either, lad, unless for discomfort. 
Yet if it were mine to lay the courses, I would go 
to that Gorgo. She has need of you, I would say; 
for since that little baby died — ” 

“ My baby ! dead ! ” 

“ She does little else but weep and call upon you. 
It is not the lack of bread, mind you. That Golas 
is more persuasive than any with tongues ; few can 
argue with him. Yet he lays before her in vain 
the bread that others die for; she but weeps and 
calls, and there is the whole of it.” 

Lysander was conferring with certain of our ex- 
iles when I burst in upon them. Critias sat beside 
him, and the wine was flowing. 

“ I will wait no longer,” I cried, — “ not one 
hour.” 

The Spartan looked up with a flush, but broke 
Into a laugh. “ Go,” he said. “ It is time by what 
I hear. They will listen now.” 

“ Yes, Theramenes,” put in Critias, “ this is your 
part of it. You must persuade them, or we shall 
rule no city. I cannot smooth my tongue to such 
practices; I am no hypocrite.” 


482 G O R G O 

“ No,” I said, “ not even a hypocrite.” And I 
left them. 

As I passed through the city, lean creatures 
fawned upon me. “Is it peace?” they said. “Is 
it peace? ” But I looked neither right nor left, nor 
answered, pressing on through all till I reached my 
home. 

“ Oh, Theramnas ! ” And whether her voice was 
the more sad or glad is beyond my telling. “ The- 
ramnas, do you yet know ? ” It was a sob, but 
sobbed with love no less than grief. 

“ I know.” My eyes were dry, for tears were not 
worth the shedding. 

She lay on our wedding couch; she was pale, 
ns I never had seen her. She was not white like 
the snow, for that is cold; she was white like a 
sunlit cloud in heaven, — and somehow seemed as 
far away. 

“ O boy,” she whispered — and we were boy and 
girl again, yet only for a moment — “ you cannot 
yet know all, I think.” And my heart stopped. 

“ For now I cannot stay — O boy, I cannot stay 
here any longer. And it is so sweet to be with you, 
boy ; and I thought it would be for so* long, — and 
I cannot stay.' 

“Gorgo!” I cried — in what voice I know not 
— “you cannot leave me, Gorgo! You are mine, 
my own, to the end of time.” 

“ Yes, yours,” she murmured, “ for always, and 
wherever this Gorgo may be. But I am going, 
somewhere, into the darkness ; I would love to stay, 


G O R G O 


483 

boy, and comfort you, but I cannot. And I don’t 
know where I am going, Theramnas — O boy, I 
don’t know — I don’t know at all, nor what will 
become of me, except that I will surely find my 
baby — our own little baby, Theramnas. For he 
needs his mother more than anything else — he 
will cry, and I shall go to that place very quickly, 
Theramnas.” 

May the gods forgive me if I was wrong: I loved 
my baby, but I loved Gorgo more. 

“ But I think you will come to me soon — you 
too, boy — into that great black somewhere — 
where we lose ourselves. Yet it seems to me that 
it will be ages of years before we are like this again.” 
For I held her in my arms, her cheek upon my 
breast. 

“ And just as likely as not, when we meet again, 
I shall not even know you — at first. You must 
find me, boy, and tell me who I am — that I am 
really GorgO' — your Gorgo. It is your turn next 
to find out, boy.” 

I was dumb — with the tongue I could not speak ; 
but close in Gorgo’s ear my heart was speaking. 

“ For it was I that found out first, this time,” 
she whispered, with the light quiver of a smile upon 
her face. “ Yes, I did, boy; I just the same as 
made love to you, there in Sparta — but the one that 
knows first must tell the other. Do you promise 
— to remember and to tell ? Quick, boy ! ” 

“ I promise, Gorgo.” 


G O R G O 


484 

“Yes — I heard it, Theramnas — but it seems so 
far. Oh! I am going now. Hold me fast, boy, 
— just as long as ever you can.” 

And with that whisper she breathed away the 
unknown something we call life. 


XLIV. 


The Viper's Sting 

I T is not always that grief softens the spirit. I 
felt that I had shed my last tears; my heart 
was dry and hard. The last look of GorgO' had 
made me stone, indeed. 

My life, already scarred and soiled by the rough 
encounters and corruptions of politics, was no more 
a thing to cherish as it once had seemed, — a bat- 
tered cup, full of the bitterness of hemlock, the 
sooner drained the sooner ended. Perhaps it was 
just as well : I was not dainty of it now. I could 
use it to serve any ends without compunction; I 
could even fling it away if occasion should arise. 

The future? — there was no future. The gods? 
— if they had taken from me Gorgo, speak not to 
me of gods. If I still loved anything it was Athens, 
— but of those who dwelt within it I loved none. 
When I passed from its gates, in all that starving 
city I left behind no soul more desperate; when I 
reached the Spartan camp, I found none more ruth- 
less. 

For they sent me back to make peace. There 
was little question of terms. Ships and empire were 
485 


G O R G O 


486 

gone already. Democracy, too, might go. The 
walls were forgotten. Against the return of the 
hated exiles a few cried out, but the voices of hunger 
cried louder. Any peace that would bring bread! 

“ Good work, thus far,” said Lysander, approv- 
ingly. “ This freedom from weakness and scruples 
exceeds my expectation. You may yet be a great 
man in Hellas.” 

I had still one purpose, — to save Athens from 
destruction; of her citizens, some — not all. Fire- 
brands must needs be quenched, or the whole city 
would burn. I knew them well, these firebrands, 
and wrote down the names. The sycophants, too 
— why not be rid of some of them ? and I wrote 
more names. The traitors — my fingers shook with 
eagerness to write them down — but they were 
mostly of our own party, and so went on the other 
scroll. Critias scowled with envy as he saw me 
making up these lists, — for proscription and for 
office; yet he was not denied his share, adding many 
names to the former and a few to the last. It was 
only when he named Thrasybulus for death that I 
rebelled. 

“We must cut off all the heads of hydra and 
sear the neck,” he retorted, angrily. “ One such 
hot-headed patriot of democracy may ruin our proj- 
ect. He more than any other, unless it be his 
advocate, overturned the well-laid schemes of Anti- 
phon. I know of but one that better needs killing.” 

“ Shall I do all and have my will in nothing,” 
I demanded of Lysander, “ while this Critias sulks 


G O R G O 487 

in your camp and marks my friends for death and 
threatens me ? ” 

“ Critias,” said the Spartan, “ if you break out 
thus again to mar our counsels, your own name goes 
to the other scroll. What care I for your Antiphons 

— or for Critias, either, unless you serve me? The- 
ramenes has done much and asked little; he shall 
have his will as to this Thrasybulus. For the rest, 
he who names an enemy shall have him, and the 
friendship of another shall be no bar; but he who 
starts discord among us dies, and little it matters 
to Ly sander.” 

“ You have set a traitor among us,” persisted 
Critias, rashly. “ This fellow always flinches and 
always turns.” 

“ Fool,” cried the Spartan, “ are your ears so 
dull that I must make them deaf ? Mark this : The- 
ramenes stands first among you, and is my chosen 
agent unless he flinches. If he flinches, have your 
will.” 

So it was I who bore back the terms of peace, 

— a long scroll wound on a staff in the Spartan 
fashion. Hard terms they were, but the city was 
not to perish utterly ; and the people scarcely waited 
to hear or to vote before they ran to meet the corn- 
ships entering the harbour. 

Then, when all was made ready, it was I who came 
before that last assembly, — convened to vote itself 
the very last. I did not mince matters — what 
need? Lysander was with me; his spears were 
about us; fate had fulfilled his vow. 


G O R G O 


488 

“ You are met,” I told them, “ to end this empty 
farce of democracy.” They clamoured at that, for 
habit is strong. “ This is idle,” I said. “ Do you 
not know that your democracy is gone already? 
And what but its folly has brought you to this 
pass? You have listened long to demagogues and 
traitors ; you must listen now to a conqueror. Can 
you not see by what warrant I speak?” 

Many were leaving the assembly, and of these 
the informers took note. Such as remained were 
silent. 

“ Thirty names,” I went on, “ will presently be 
read. To those named you must entrust the city 
and its government. What comes after rests with 
them.” 

Again there was a sound of murmuring. Ly- 
sander strode forth, and his spears pressed closer. 

“ Slaves,” he began, “ have I been merciful in 
vain? Already the peace is forfeit, if I will it so, 
and your lives no less. Are not those walls which 
you swore to cast down still standing? Do you 
think I will trust you further? Will you strain 
my patience? Do what you are bidden, or you will 
have more need of burial urns than of urns for 
ballots.” 

At that all tongues were still. The list was read, 
the question put. There were many who did not 
vote, but none made further opposition ; and we, 
whose names were entered on that roll of infamy, 
marched down through sullen faces to the senate- 
house. We did not heed their looks; the knights, 


G O R G O 


489 

who loved the rabble no better than we, were our 
escort, and the pikes of Sparta were behind. 

“ Now,” said Critias, “ we must begin with the 
pious rites of sacrifice. So only can we hope to 
thrive.” 

“ Yes,” I answered, coldly, “ those whose names 
are on the secret list must die. It was so agreed, 
and the most, I think, deserve it. Let us, then, slay 
quickly and have done.” 

There was no lack of zeal in the slaying, for 
Critias took charge of that. Yet the people looked 
on calmly : it was less than they expected. Thus far 
they rather wondered at our moderation, for they 
knew well the character of those that fell. A harder 
thing to bear was the pulling down of the walls; 
yet this they did, though with reluctant hands, while 
the victorious enemy stood by and chanted paeans 
to the sounding pipes. When that was done Ly- 
sander sailed from the harbour and Agis left our 
fields. The people sighed with relief, and even 
dared to hope. 

Then it was that Myrinna came to me. “ I do 
so admire a born aristocrat,” she said, in her sweet- 
est tones, — “a born aristocrat, like you, Thera- 
menion, and a man of force. I have always been 
an aristocrat myself, in my heart, though I never 
dared own it. You know very well how I have 
always felt toward you, Theramenion; I am very 
frank in these matters with such as you. And now 
there is nothing that need stand between us ; indeed, 
I am very forgiving, Theramenion, where I am 


G O R G O 


49 ° 

really interested, you know. Perhaps I shall have 
some little favours to ask, which you can easily 
grant while you are putting these people out of 
the way, and then I shall forget all your coldness. 
I knew that it could not last just as soon as I saw 
her — that red Spartan girl. I think a fair, pale 
cheek is much more elegant, — don’t you? Truly, 
it would not have lasted long, even if she had not 
died. But the gods be thanked — she is out of 
the way at last, and that baby, too. You have still 
those jewels she was wearing, haven’t you, Thera- 
menion ? ” 

And with that she looked full in my face, with 
much presuming in her upturned eyes. Then my 
tongue found speech : I broke forth upon her with 
words that I shall not repeat, — such as none for- 
get and none forgive. She was pale enough now : 
a bleached viper she seemed, as she wheeled with 
a darting glance, full of venom. 

“ There are others,” she said, “ as mighty as 
Theramenion, and wiser.” 

This incident did much to bring me to myself 
again. To what had I been drifting? I hastened 
home — to the door where Gorgo used to meet me 
— and passed in, to silent halls and an empty cham- 
ber. And there I flung myself upon our wedding 
bed and wept as I think I never wept before, — 
and much bitterness, I know, flowed out of my soul 
with those tears. At the end it seemed as if Gorgo 
had come back to me; from that hour her spirit 
was ever near me. She walked beside me even in 


the market, just as of old; it was only when I went 
among the Thirty that the sense of her presence 
faded. In my dreams her face was ever gazing 
into mine. And in those dreams I did not clearly 
remember that she was dead, — yet something 
within me knew, so that I feared and felt a bar, 
and could not put my arms about her as I longed 
to do. 

In this mood it was that I went to Socrates. 
Few were the words that passed between us, but 
enough. 

“ Have I done wrong? ” I asked him. “ I know 
— and you know — that I have saved Athens; yet 
by a sort of treachery and cruel means. Was it 
worth what it has cost? Have I done wrong ?” 

“I cannot tell,” he said; “the voice is silent. 
This I know : I myself could not have done it. 
And this,” he added, — “ that it is now time for 
you to do right — the things that are right beyond 
all doubt or question.” 

“ I set so little value on my life,” I said, “ that 
I may as well do right, — even in politics, and in 
Athens.” 

He sighed. “ What you have done has cost you 
much, and will cost you more. Your soul, I think, 
is not unstained. Yet as it seems to me — for the 
voice, as I have said, is silent — you have done 
better for Athens than a better man.” 

As I returned I came up behind Myrinna — walk- 
ing slowly with Critias. “ You don’t know how 


492 G O R G O 

clever he is,” she was saying. “ He will yet outwit 
you.” 

“ Not he,” answered the other, — “a dreamer — 
a weaver of words; yet dangerous, I admit. He 
shall steal no marches here. I will goad him into 
rashness through Thrasybulus, first.” 

“ He, too, was once my admirer,” she said, “ but 
you may have him, Critias, if it serves your pur- 
pose.” 

They both startled as I passed them. Critias 
sneered; Myrinna laughed, and eyed me with a 
cold, deliberate malice of revenge. There was little 
passion in it, — only an unforgiving remembrance 
of injury. 

I did not dally with life-freighted moments. I 
went straight to the house of Thrasybulus, and by 
great good chance found him in. 

“You must flee from Athens to-night,” I told 
him. “If not, expect the daggers of Critias. I 
cannot prevent; if at midnight they find you here, 
you are lost.” 

He looked long in my face. “ Do you run no 
risk in this ? ” he asked. 

“ I do not know. I do not care. I speak true. 
Make haste.” 

“ Theramenes,” he said, slowly, “ you have many 
times put me in doubt. Your ways are hard for 
me to follow ; I have sometimes thought you worst 
of all those scoundrels. But this rings true; and 
to-night I could almost believe that you are the 


G O R G O 


493 

deepest patriot of us all. I am sure you run much 
risk; but if you come to any harm by that Critias, 
I will avenge you or die for it. Farewell, old school- 
mate.” And we pressed each other’s hands for the 
last time. • 


XLV. 


“Even in That Darkness ” 

N EVER had I known Critias so open and 
friendly as he seemed on the following day. 
I really thought him anxious to make amends 
and heal the breach of our factions; for as things 
were shaping themselves we each had partisans, and 
both knew that for us dissension meant destruction. 

“ Come/’ he said, “ we are too few to quarrel, 
and our common enemies too many; we are on 
one ship and must keep in stroke. No doubt you 
overheard me yesterday ; well, I am glad of it, even 
if you warned Thrasybulus, as I suspect. I am 
glad he escaped; I was wrong to seek his life, for 
we all three were schoolmates together. That life 
in Thrace has spoiled my temper, I fear; they are 
a wild lot yonder. We learn to adjust our disputes 
with a slash of the knife, and doubtless lift the dag- 
ger too easily.” 

“ I wish no quarrel,” I answered, “ but it is time 
to put our rule on a sounder basis and not repeat 
the deadly errors of the Four Hundred.” 

“ Exactly,” he said, smiling, “ and I wish to 
talk these matters over with you. We will have no 
494 


G O R G O 


495 

misunderstandings after to-day. Ride out with me 
to Phylse. I think that fort needs a stronger guard, 
for there are rumours of trouble from Thebes. We 
will look the place over together ; but the main thing 
is, I wish to talk with you in private.” 

So I went, trusting little but fearing less. We 
rode unarmed and unattended. He held me in close 
argument all the way, and reproached himself re- 
peatedly. “ See how a plain talk settles all,” he was 
saying as we mounted the pass. “We shall soon be 
rid of our differences now. I was more dull than 
my horse to put faith in such as Myrinna; but she 
told me a fine tale of treachery that you had con- 
fessed to her — and I believed her ! ” 

This mention of the horse put an odd fancy into 
my mind : I knew horses. “ The treachery is 
yours,” I exclaimed, facing him suddenly. 

His eye met mine — his features never quivered ; 
but the horse leaped as if struck. 

“ Curse the brute,” he cried ; and his cheek flushed 
now. “ You jest: but one would think she had felt 
the spur.” 

“ A good jest, that struck home,” I answered. 
“ She felt the spur that stung her master. Never 
ride a horse, Critias, when you would keep secrets.” 
And I wheeled. 

He shouted harshly, in a barbarous tongue. 
From the thickets above started forth a band of 
Thracians with long knives, but I rode for my 
life and reached the city safe. 

After that, though neither he nor I made mention 


G O R G O 


496 

of this episode, there was open feud between us, 
and it grew like the turbid streams which swelled 
and widened under the autumn sky. The shorten- 
ing days were full of strife and peril; for another 
summer had come to GorgO' dead, and again it was 
clouding to winter. Thrasybulus had surely sent 
some message back from Thebes, for the people 
whispered of me; but the more the many showed 
their love, the more was I distrusted by the few, 
whose will was the only law. Soon I was both 
feared and hated by most of them. Yet even among 
the few I had my friends, — more than dared speak, 
for the terror of Critias and his Thracian daggers 
was upon them all. I alone did not fear him — 
because I no longer feared anything. Besides, cour- 
age is largely a question O'f knowing what to do, 
and for me all doubts were resolved. 

“ For many among your ancestors have died a 
good death for Athens; speak a brave word, boy, 
and die boldly.” Thus my grandfather’s best words 
came back to me. Far away they seemed, sounding 
as from the hollow of a tomb, but I heard them dis- 
tinctly. “ Not even for Theramnas would I wed 
a traitor,” said another sweeter voice. That too 
came from far, out of the shadows; but I never 
would disappoint her trust. And after these came 
other tones that seemed nearer, slow and steady: 
“ You will yet fulfil you fate, Theramenes ; your 
death will be better than your life.” So it should 
be. 

Ly Sander’s utmost threat was now accomplished : 


G O R G O 


497 

his spears were planted on our very Acropolis. 
Critias had demanded them, and Lysander — who 
already deemed my enemy the better tool — had 
granted them gladly; a horde of Laconian merce- 
naries tented beneath Athena’s lifted lance. Some 
day the daughter of Jove might strike; but my 
eyes were not to see it. 

“ Now,” said Critias, “ we are secure.” And he 
glanced toward me. “ The few can rule only by 
force. What fool among you thinks otherwise? 
But these foreign spears must be well paid and kept 
in humour. We must have money.” 

So they flattered and fondled the coarse captain 
O'f the garrison until he would do anything. Money 
or lives — Callibius must needs be humoured. 
Young Autolycus, the wrestler, had once given him 
the trip; for that, he himself got a fall from which 
he did not rise, — and the brutal Spartan strutted 
about the sacred hill, drunk with wine and revenge 
and glory. 

Money must be had; but the city was bare and 
drained of gold. They were griping it now wher- 
ever they saw its gleam, from friend or foe, and 
wealth became a deadly blessing. The son of Nicias 
lay crushed by the silver of his mines ; Leon found 
no space for a grave in those broad fields that 
doomed him ; the golden shrine did not protect the 
priest who clung to it. When they entered a house 
for a seizure, they plucked the jewels off the women 
like soldiers sacking a hostile town. 

Against all this I had cried aloud in passionate 


G O R G O 


498 

protest, but I cried in vain and alone. Yet not 
quite alone: for Socrates still spoke his mind be- 
neath the porches just as he was wont, in keen, 
plain, homely terms that rumour carried beyond the 
walls, — where they rose to a thunder of threaten- 
ing voices, and echoed back to us. He was soon 
enjoined to silence, but answered smiling, talking 
to Critias and Charicles as to any others, though 
they foamed at the lips. When they sputtered 
threats and bade him connive at murder by arresting 
Leon of Salamis, he turned on his heel and left 
them. We alone, he and I, spoke out with breath 
unbated; but already a murmur like the rumble 
of a torrent filled the air. 

“ You have but dammed a river with corpses ; 
the waters are gathering; make an outlet, or they 
will burst all barriers.” 

So I warned, and in one demand I prevailed : 
three thousand were listed as citizens. 

“ It is not enough,” I urged. “ What magic in 
three thousand? Let all be citizens who fight with 
horse or shield ; give the city to' its defenders. So 
I said before; so> I say now and always.” 

“ Aye,” answered Critias, “ so you said before : 
we have reason to- remember. But what befell 
before shall not chance again. I will not yet return 
to Thrace.” 

“ You have never left Thrace,” I retorted. 
“ Athens is Thrace since Critias entered it. We 
will all dwell in Thrace through you.” 

But, plead as I would, three thousand and no 


G O R G O 


499 

more were enrolled; nor was anything bettered by 
this, for whatever good might have come of it 
Critias turned to evil. Those on the roll had gained 
no right but to< serve our will and share our crimes ; 
the rest were stripped of their arms and outlawed 
altogether. 

They huddled in Piraeus as they could, but 
scattered fast across the border. Thebes swarmed 
with them ; their bitterest enemies gave shelter : 
while we — even in Sparta our names were a scoff. 
Only Lysander commended us — all-powerful still, 
but hated no less than we. 

Lysander! His boasted forfeit would serve no 
longer; already his fortune hung at the turn. Fate 
stood ready to break her thread, — then, from Ec- 
batana to Gades, all fortunes would change; the 
world would enter on new courses. Sparta would 
wane; Hellas would wane; Persia would fall in 
ruins. The words of Socrates, with the language 
that he spoke, would go to the ends of the earth, 
more enduring than the nations; a greater than 
Socrates would come. Of this I have merely read 
— after the lapse of centuries ; I know of it no 
more than you. For when fate reached out her 
hand to break the thread, the fibre that snapped first 
was mine. 

Other things I have read in history, that touched 
me more nearly. Long had I waited to learn of 
them ; strange it seems beyond belief. How Ly- 
sander stumbled; how Thrasybulus led back Ath- 
ens to her own, and avenged me; how Critias fell 


500 


G 0 R G O 


by the arrow of Golas. Nay — the last I did not 
read ; it was only written that he fell — but I know. 
He was found dead after the battle, — transfixed 
with an arrow that had riven through shield-plates 
and breast-plate, ribs and heart. With strange feel- 
ings have I read what was written — and between 
the lines what never was written. 

Thus came the end at last. Critias rose in our 
council. His heavy jaw was set, his face was sod- 
den, but his eyes sparkled with malice. “ Some of 
you,” he began, “ are wont to frown upon me.” 
And he gave me his usual glance. “ But to-day I 
have something to propose which I hope will please 
you.” 

We listened — some eagerly, some with dread. 

(< We have done much for the public,” he went 
on, smoothly. His speech had been carefully 
conned. “We have suffered much for our staunch- 
ness — except one, perhaps. But I hold no grudges. 
We must have no divisions; we will have none. 
He shall share.” 

Then I knew his aim, but not yet what shaft he 
had chosen. 

“We have sacrificed much in the past — except 
that one, and he shall share. Why should we serve 
the public only? Why should the hungry Spartan 
alone have gold? I propose that we deal more 
justly with ourselves.” 

I knew that most of our number had done them- 
selves no injustice — where money was concerned. 


G O R G O 


501 

But these were they who listened most intently, 
with conscious faces and applauding smiles. 

“ You approve: I can see it plainly. Well, those 
who were citizens have little left; what they had 
has been spent to counteract their own folly, and 
we are still unrewarded, unless by the satisfaction 
of our acts. But the alien metics are many and 
rich. They love us no better than others ; we have 
good grounds. I have made up a list of them ; 
we will each choose one, and add two or three of 
the poorer for an answer to fools. For of course 
it is all done for the public good — like the rest,” 
he concluded. And again he looked toward me. 

“ You propose to me to choose an innocent man 
to be murdered for my purse? ” I demanded, hotly. 

“ Oh, well,” he said, “ that is a matter of phras- 
ing. I suggest for you Lysias, the writer; to put 
out of the way a sophist is a good deed, you must 
admit. I would add our old Socrates for one of 
the poorer, — only the question is now of metics ; 
he can come later. I am giving you one of the 
best. This Lysias is rich and has stored gold; and 
I know of no ranker advocate of democracy among 
all the metics. See, I have written it down for 
you.” And he held up his tablets. 

“ Strike my name from the list,” I cried. “ I 
will none of it.” 

He started, as if with a sudden thought. “ Do 
you insist?” he said. “ It shall be done.” 

“ I, too, refuse,” exclaimed Eratosthenes, as I 
turned to go. “ This is the worst yet, — infamous.” 


G O R G O 


502 

Critias glared at him with eyes of Thrace. 
“ Take thought,” he said. “ He who will not share 
our infamy, as you call it, is not of us. Shall I 
blot off your name? ” 

The man turned pale. “ Gods of hell,” he mut- 
tered, “ I suppose I must go with the rest.” 

I dreamed that night a sombre dream. I was 
acting the part of Palamedes in “ The Witness ” 
of Agathon. The dream ended in thick darkness. 
I arose with that cloud still about me : I seemed not 
to have waked. I called Golas. 

“ My faithful slave,” I said, “ you have ears, at 
least, and a hand; never but once have you failed 
me. Now listen closely, and obey. I go again to 
meet Critias, — him you saw with Myrinna, whom 
you once would have shot, but I checked you. I 
shall hold back your arrows no more, I think. If 
I come not at evening, find Meletus ; he will under- 
stand. With him make haste over the border — to 
Thebes — and there seek out Thrasybulus. Give 
him this ring as a token. To him attach yourself 
— he will gladly receive you. Follow him as you 
have followed me, and serve him well.” 

And Golas clasped my feet and wept upon them; 
but his soul had long been mine and knew no other 
thought than to obey. So I left him — forever — 
and went forth to the senate-house. The Thirty 
were in their places; the full senate was on the 
benches. I needed no telling what it meant ; I had 
scarcely reached my seat when Critias stood up to 
denounce me. 


G O R G O 


503 

“ A traitor of old,” he cried, “ and now again 
a traitor : none can trust him. He incites to deeds 
which only violence can compass, yet shrinks from 
violence, and at the crisis ever shifts. An easy 
‘ slipper ’ he, as even the mob have called him, — 
a loose fit for either foot, and quickly shuffled off. 
Our courses are not politic, he informs us. Of pol- 
icy he has much to say. One policy alone he com- 
prehends, — to buy safety and new glory with the 
lives of friends. That we shall now prevent.” 

This and much more he recited before them, 
lashing my name with stinging words of studied 
hate; all the best and the worst of my life he turned 
against me, — truth and falsehood, so mingled that 
truth was made falser than lies. I will not repeat 
what he said ; it has been repeated too often. Xeno- 
phon — who loved neither him nor me — has re- 
corded it after a fashion; and Lysias has added 
worse — Lysias, to keep from the stain of whose 
blood I died! 

Nor will I rehearse my answer : all that I have 
written is my answer. Yet I would not have you 
think it rightly recorded. Young Xenophon — 
who heard me not — has but given me words of his 
own; he was vain of his pen, and such is ever the 
custom of those who write history. I was pleading 
before them for honour, not for life; I used no idle 
sophistries upon that day, but spoke aloud as one 
speaks within his soul. I will leave untold the 
greater part; but thus I ended my last defence 


among men, my final appeal for justice to my 
name: 

“ Faithless he calls me — he, the Thracian ! But 
I answer your thoughts, not his words. I would 
be faithful to the few if they would be faithful to 
Athens; I would be constant to the many if they 
could be constant to themselves. But when some 
are traitors — like him who calls me traitor — and 
the rest are the fools and tools of traitors, what 
other than what I have done could I do? I could 
not do as Critias has done: I have not dwelt in 
Thrace; the honour code of Critias is new to me. 

“ He calls me the ‘ slipper ’ — Critias ! He — 
the iron boot of the torture-chamber — denounces 
me as the ‘ slipper.’ And I accept it. Gladly would 
I be called the 4 slipper ’ if I might give the bruised 
foot of Athens rest. Some ease she might find in 
the 4 slipper.’ 

“ A betrayer of friends ? No friend of mine, no 
friend of Athens, ever came to harm by me. Are 
they my friends who, to cap a carnival of murder, 
seek my life? like Antiphon? like Critias? Is it 
treason to differ with Critias? I know well it is 
death, but is it treason? 

“ Do you call it oligarchy, — this tyranny of 
Critias? Do you not all see that he has himself 
subverted the oligarchy? Or is he a friend to oli- 
garchy who has robbed it of all friends, forced it 
to crime, doomed it to overthrow? Is he your 
friend who has roused all Hellas against you, and 
am I, who strove to avert it, your enemy ? He is not 


G O R G O 


505 

your friend, but your master, and well you know 
it. A short, steep path to ruin is this Critias, who 
calls me a betrayer. 

“ I have offended you : but you will only con- 
demn me to death, exactly the same as if I had 
pleased you.” And I glanced at the Thracians who 
stood behind, with swaggering looks and daggers 
ill concealed. “ You will vote as Critias bids, on 
these open tables under his eye. But be it my glory 
or my shame, this I know, and all of you know it : 
I have saved my city, though I gave it over to you, 
and even to your oligarchy I have been more true 
than any other.” 

So I ended, fearlessly, expecting death. But they 
— after a breathless moment of silence the whole 
senate broke forth in applause; with one voice they 
applauded. So near was I to victory — even within 
that Thracian dagger-circle ! My colleagues sprang 
to their feet — in alarm — in hope. Critias paled, 
but leaped to the platform. The daggers pressed 
closer. 

“ There are times,” he said, in a voice that shook 
with rage, “ when it becomes the duty of a presi- 
dent who knows his business, seeing his friends 
deceived, to judge for them. This I shall do to-day; 
nor, indeed, will these whom you see around us 
endure it that such a manifest traitor escape. Under 
our present laws, it is true, none whose names are 
there enrolled ” — and he pointed to the list of the 
Three Thousand on the wall — “ none of those can 
be condemned without your sanction; others may 


G O R G O 


506 

die by the will of the Thirty. I blot the name of 
Theramenes from that list. He is condemned. Let 
the Eleven do their duty.” 

There was a cry; then a hush. I sprang to the 
altar — yet smiled in my heart as I did it. An 
altar as a bulwark against Critias! Words were 
as impotent — a fence of air against steel — but I 
would not spare my breath while I had it. 

“ Will you go like beasts to the slaughter?” I 
called, loudly. “ Is any name less easily blotted 
than mine? Will you give your throats to the knife 
like bulls herded for the sacrifice, and look unmoved 
on the death of others while you wait your turn ? ” 

But the only sound was the rasp of daggers slip- 
ping from the sheath. Satyrus dragged me roughly 
from the altar, and from the hall, still calling. 

“ Swallow your tongue,” he exclaimed, with a 
curse, as he led me through the street. “ Be silent, 
or you will fare the worse.” 

“ Shall I fare the better for silence? ” I laughed. 
“ Will silence here save me from silence yonder ? ” 
And I used my voice as I chose. 

The way was short; I soon stood in the prison 
gloom. The cup was ready, and I drained it with 
a smile. 

“ It is less bitter than many I have tasted,” I 
said. “ As sweet a draught to the gentle Critias : ” 
and I flung the last drops, as in cottabos, against the 
prison door. The note rang true. Then I laid 
myself down, as they bade me, and screened my face 
for death. 


G O R G O 


507 

And there the old, almost forgotten question 
asked itself: What is it that happens? Well, I 
thought, I shall find out now. And soon I felt my 
soul sinking into' the infinite as a water-drop melts 
in the sea : the prison, the hard ground on which I 
rested, had passed from me; I was quite alone — 
falling, floating, I could not tell — in unknown 
spaces empty of light or sound. Then Gorgo came 
to me, luminous out of the vacancy, reaching toward 
me with both her arms. And the last I remem- 
ber is this : her sweet face vanished back into dark- 
ness; whereupon there fell before me a shower of 
rose petals, which shone like little flames of soft 
sunset light; I was swooning with their fragrance; 
and as the last spark fluttered down, I too was lost 
in the dark. 

For twenty centuries I slept. 



THE END. 







































































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